Accidental Parent
by Seacook
Summary: Following the rescue of an alien child Malcolm is unexpectedly thrust into the role of surrogate parent. WIP
1. Chapter 1 Abandoned

DISCLAIMER: I make no profit from using characters and alien species from "_Star Trek: Enterprise_", I do not own them, and no infringement is intended. You can bet that if I _did_ own them the final episode would _NOT_ have been the high-tech equivalent of a dream sequence and the main characters would not have been overshadowed by characters from a different branch of the franchise!!! Plus, _Malcolm_ would have been the one who got to blow up the bad guys! (_AND _he woulda kicked Shran's gorgeous blue arse for getting them all into that situation to begin with!)

SUMMARY: Following the rescue of an alien child Malcolm is unexpectedly thrust into the role of surrogate parent. As the crew seeks to reunite the boy with his people his gifts and abilities are revealed, and it soon becomes evident that even if they find his home, separating the child from his new guardian may quite literally prove impossible.

RATING: PG due to violence (both real and implied). It should be noted that some of the violence is directed at a child.

NOTES: Set after _Shuttlepod One_ and after _Two Days and Two Nights_. My online time and computer access is sporadic at best, so there will undoubtedly be delays between postings. I implore you, please be patient.

********************

Chapter One: Abandoned

The filthy, matted hair covering almost his entire body did little to help keep him warm as he huddled in the darkness, scrunching his tiny naked body farther against the wall of the small, cold cell. Hot and swollen from the infected knife wound, his right hoof protested at the movement. The chain running from the wall to the heavy shackles around his wrists clattered loudly. He held his breath, terrified—if they heard him they would come. They would hurt him again.

Then he remembered that they had gone away.

Trembling, he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to fight back the tears. Confused, cold, frightened, and in pain, all he wanted was to go home. He gazed longingly at his talisman, the cloth pouch he'd worn since birth, now beyond his reach. Torn from around his neck by his captor shortly after his abduction, it had been cast on the cell floor near the door, along with the earring that had been just as easily and maliciously torn from his left ear. His parents had worked together to make the talisman and his father had lovingly crafted the earring. They were his birthing gifts, marking him as a child of Mala and Jagat, of the herd of Ishvar, of the Khadi Range. More tears came as he thought of his parents and the rest of the herd. Though there was much his young mind could not understand, he knew what death was.

At first he'd refused to believe that they were dead. But as his voice and mind had screamed out to them in pain and fear and received no response, he came to know that it was true. His family was dead and he was, for the very first time in his short life, entirely alone.

He didn't know why he'd been taken from his family and brought to this bad ship, nor why the strange aliens who had taken him had been so mean to him. His left horn still throbbed from when he'd been thrown against the wall. It had given them pleasure to hurt him. Had he been older he might have been able to understand such cold, frightening minds but his own mind was not yet experienced enough to decipher their foreign emotions.

Some time ago the ship had shuddered violently, alarms blaring and already faint lights dimming. Even through his own pain he had felt the fear of the alien crew as they realized that their ship was dying. Had his voice not been taken from him he might have been able to warn them…but then again, the only crewmember allowed any extended contact with him was the one who had torn his voice from him as well as the one responsible for the ship's impending demise. That one had come to the cell one last time, but only to torture and mock him again. As a final torment the alien had left the cell door open, knowing full well that the chain would prevent his captive from actually reaching it. Of course even approaching the door in the past had brought swift, agonizing punishment, so despite the beckoning threshold the child had little desire to go near the opening.

The emotions of the crew had rapidly faded as they abandoned the ship. It had, at first, been a relief to not feel them, not hear the cold, cruel thoughts anymore. The sense of relief hadn't lasted long, though. The only emotions he sensed now were his own overwhelming agony, fear, despair, and loneliness, buffeting him like the waves of a stormy sea. His mind was drowning in its own emotional currents. It was getting difficult to breathe.

He had no way of knowing that life support had long since failed and there would soon be no air left to breathe. For better or worse he was too young to realize that he was dying. All he was aware of aside from the fear, cold, and pain was the intense, complete, unbearable _aloneness_. Though he had been physically alone in the past, there had never been this sense of total isolation. Even the dark, horrible minds of his tormentors would be better than the unbearable seclusion. Timidly letting his mind reach out he listened for any other minds, something—_anything_—that his mind could grab hold of for salvation.

Eyes snapping open he gasped, horizontal pupils grown huge in the golden-colored orbs, his mind recoiling from what it had found. There _was_ something else here, something that had not been here before. Distrustful of its surroundings, plotting every cautious movement, it was methodically searching for its target. Instinct told the child that this was the mind of a hunter. A predator. Very close, and getting closer.

He strained desperately against the chain, too frightened now to feel the shackles biting into his bloodied wrists. He had to get away. Small squeaks and whimpers escaped from him as he struggled against his bonds. Bright lights suddenly shone in the corridor and he froze. The light outside the door wavered as the unknown creature continued its search.

He might have screamed from fear if his voice hadn't been stolen from him. Instead he gasped for breath, shivering as his lungs fought to draw oxygen from the thinning air. The lights grew brighter, drawing nearer, and the child realized with growing horror that there was more than one creature. Maybe two, or three. Maybe an entire pack, coming to find him, devour him, tear at him with sharp teeth and claws. His imagination ran amok as the lights grew brighter still. Then light flooded into the cell, temporarily blinding him and making him reflexively raise his arms to shield his eyes, shackled wrists resting against his forehead. By the time his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness and he lowered his arms a large, round-headed biped was reaching for him with long rubber-skinned bronze arms.

From the time he had seen the lights instinct had told him to remain perfectly still; when the hands touched his face, trying to cover his mouth and nose, a different set of instincts took over. With a strangled bleating shriek of panic he kicked at the creature, both tiny cloven hooves striking its abdomen and sending it sprawling backward with a grunt, leaving it momentarily winded. Terror dulled the pain in his leg long enough for him to kick out several more times. Two more creatures moved to help the one he'd kicked get up from the floor. He could hear them speaking but was too frightened to wonder what 'mao-kim' or 'buddy-ell' meant.


	2. Chapter 2 Rescued

Chapter Two: Rescued

"Malcolm—you okay?" Trip asked, first to reach his friend's side. Breathless, Reed nodded, simultaneously struggling to stand and catch his breath. As Trip and T'Pol helped him hoist himself up he at last found his voice.

"Bloody hell…that _hurt_!" Had the blow landed much lower he was certain that the future of the Reed bloodline would have been in dire jeopardy. He looked down to inspect his EV suit for damage, half-expecting to find small hoof-shaped holes. His brow furrowed—though the suit was intact there was a smear of blood where the feet had struck him. That couldn't possibly bode well for the little fellow. "I believe he's injured," he told his comrades. "Subcommander, do you recognize his species?"

T'Pol nodded. "He is a Lehrite, but this is _not _a Lehrite vessel. And he is far too young to be away from his people."

"How old do ya think he is?" Trip asked.

"Perhaps two or three years of age. From what we know of them, Lehrites do not allow their children to come into direct contact with other species."

Reed spoke up as he stooped to retrieve the oxygen mask he'd been trying to put on the boy. "I don't suppose we'll be able to make him understand that we're trying to _help _him?"

The subcommander pondered the question for a full two seconds. "It is doubtful. He is injured, terrified, and unaccustomed to alien contact. Explanation of our intentions would in all likelihood be fruitless, even if we could offer that explanation in his own language."

"So what do you suggest?" Trip asked, a tad sarcastically. "We supposed to just walk away an' leave him here?"

"I advise waiting for the oxygen level to drop further. Once he loses consciousness—"

"With all due respect Subcommander," Malcolm interrupted tersely, "if you're seriously suggesting that we just stand here and watch this child _suffocate_ in hopes of being able to resuscitate him later, then that is simply _not_ an option."

"I did not suggest watching him suffocate, Lieutenant, merely that we wait for him to lose consciousness. You will then be able to put the mask on him without meeting any resistance."

"I'm with Malcolm on this one," Trip chimed in before tapping the comm button on his suit. "Tucker to _Enterprise_. Captain, I need Hoshi to check the Vulcan Database for a species called Lehrites. See if she can find somethin' ta help us tell the little fella we've found that we're tryin' ta help him. He's just a toddler, so make it simple. An' hurry—air's gettin' kinda thin over here, plus the little guy's pretty banged up."

"She's on it, Trip," the captain's voice came back. "Should only take a few minutes."

Watching the boy pant and gasp for air, Reed shook his head. "I'm not sure he's got that long, sir. I'm going to try getting this mask on him again."

Tucker laid a hand on his arm as Malcolm stepped toward the boy. "You tried a frontal assault before an' it didn't pan out too good. Maybe a diversion would help?" Reed nodded and Trip warily approached the child.

"Watch out for his feet," Malcolm warned. Nodding, the engineer circled around one side of the boy as the lieutenant cautiously moved forward, both men murmuring soft words of comfort. T'Pol watched silently, certain that this attempt would fail as well and familiar enough with humans by now to know that nothing she said would dissuade them.

Unblinking, the boy also watched the two approaching him, panicked attention torn between them. Fidgeting nervously he tried to discern which one posed the greater threat, finally deciding that the smaller one deserved more of his attention since that was the one that had come at him before. Plus, it had that ominous-looking _thing_ that it had tried to put on his face. Remembering what had happened the last time an alien had put something over his face he readied himself to kick out again.

"You should avoid grasping his horns," T'Pol offered. "As I recall, they are deemed a rather…_intimate_…part of their anatomy."

"We'll keep that in mind, won't we Commander?" Malcolm replied dryly, his words directed toward Trip but his tone aimed squarely at the subcommander. Not an appropriate tone of voice to use toward a superior officer, he knew, but T'Pol's suggestion to wait for the child to lose consciousness galled him. Maybe someday _she'd _be stuck in a shuttlepod running out of oxygen and understand that it wasn't quite as simple as merely _losing consciousness_. There was the _knowledge_ that one was going to suffocate, the sensation of the thinning air. Regardless of the child's youth he had to be aware, if only on an instinctive level, that something was wrong with the air he was breathing. Reed certainly had no intention of just standing by and watching anyone asphyxiate while there was some way to prevent it.

Trip either didn't detect anything wrong with the lieutenant's tone or chose to ignore it. At Malcolm's comment he merely nodded, his attention on the Lehrite. The whimpering boy seemed focused wholly on Reed, which was fine with the engineer. Another couple of feet and he could make a grab for the little fella, then Malcolm could get the mask in place so the tot could breathe. Piece of cake. Preferable to T'Pol's suggestion to let the toddler black out. This plan was _much_ better.

He genuinely believed that right up until he actually lunged at the boy and got what he thought was a firm grip on the child's shoulders—being careful, of course, to not touch the horns. A sound like an asthmatic pig being slowly strangled erupted from the boy and tiny hooves again flashed out toward Malcolm as the little goatish, woolly head snapped around, the small but powerful mouth clamping down on the engineer's left hand.

Trip shrieked in pain, drowning out the muffled squeaks and squeals of the terrified tot. He reflexively tried to pull his hand away but that made the boy bite down harder. Inexplicably the Lehrite suddenly opened his mouth and Trip beat a hasty retreat, clutching his throbbing hand and cutting loose with several choice expletives. Maybe T'Pol's suggestion deserved further consideration, he thought, until he got a look at the child they'd been trying to help and realized that the tot had let go because he could no longer pull in enough air with a mouth full of hand. Flat on his back, the boy was breathing hard from the exertion, obviously fighting for each breath. Mouth gaping, the little guy looked like a fish out of water. From the looks of things, he'd also been frightened enough to have wet himself. Suddenly, Trip's hand didn't hurt quite so much.

"_Enterprise_ to Commander Tucker," Hoshi's voice broke the silence.

Trip thumbed his comm button. "Tucker here. _Please _tell me it's good news, Hoshi."

"Sorry, sir," Hoshi said. "About all I could find about their language is that there are at _least_ twenty different dialects, with no clear indication of which groups speak which dialects. I'm not sure where to even begin."

"Thanks fer tryin', Hoshi. Tucker out." Breaking contact with the ship he cast a look at the Vulcan. "Guess we'll hafta do it yer way after all, T'Pol."

"No," Reed stated flatly.

"Lieutenant," T'Pol said, "with no way to communicate our intentions to him there is little choice."

Malcolm shot her a near-lethal look. "I'll just have to _find _a way to 'communicate our intentions', Subcommander," he stated in his best 'you may now kiss my fine British arse' tone before again approaching the Lehrite. The boy struggled to sit up, still gasping for breath and pressing his back against the wall as he nervously watched Malcolm's approach.

"Lehrites have a frail constitution to begin with," T'Pol warned, "and he has already been subjected to a traumatic ordeal. To cause him further stress will do far more damage than the lack of oxygen."

Malcolm steadfastly ignored her, all his attention on the trembling, gasping child before him. Going down on one knee a few feet away he studied the lad, considering his next move. The boy's eyes locked on the oxygen mask, terror clear on his face. Deciding on a course of action Reed tapped the oxygen control on his EV suit, mentally berating himself for not thinking of it sooner.

"Malcolm," Trip called urgently, "what the hell are ya _doin'_?"

"If I can't _tell_ him we're trying to help, I'll just have to _show_ him," Malcolm answered quietly as he reached up to unlatch his faceplate, holding his breath: what was left of the ship's air would be, he was certain, rather unpleasant.

The helmet opened with a hiss and Malcolm, eyes watering, found himself hard pressed to keep from retching. He'd expected the air to be thin and stale, but this was absolutely_ foul_. How had the little tyke been able to _stand_ the fetid stench? Fixing his eyes on the boy, Reed spoke in a soft but strained voice. "It's all right," he said, trying to sound reassuring. He held the oxygen mask out with one hand—the boy flinched at the movement but continued watching in fascination as the lieutenant placed the mask over his own mouth and nose before drawing in a few exaggerated breaths. Holding the mask out to the child Malcolm was disheartened as the boy again drew away from him. He positioned the mask on his own face once more, gratefully filling his lungs before again offering the mask to the Lehrite.

The shackled hands at last reached out, though uncertainly, and tiny fingers tentatively touched the mask. Holding his breath Malcolm nodded before tenderly placing the mask on the boy's face and strapping it in place. Though not a perfect fit over the fuzzy muzzle-like facial features it would be adequate until they reached the shuttlepod. For a moment the child stared at him with worried, exhausted eyes, then took a hesitant breath.

Malcolm sighed in relief, smiling as the boy's breathing became more regular. "There's a good lad," he encouraged softly. Feeling himself rapidly growing lightheaded he fumbled to close his faceplate and turn the air back on.

Trip was positively livid. "That is without a doubt the _stupidest _thing you have _ever_ done!" The boy cringed at the sound of the angry voice, shrinking back against the wall.

"No, actually, it isn't," Malcolm stated matter-of-factly, his voice soft and even. "And please don't shout like that. The little fellow's already scared half out of his mind. No reason to add to his anxiety."

Trip took a deep breath before speaking again, his voice a low growl this time. "You name me _one_ thing you've done that's more stupid than poppin' yer helmet open in a place with almost no air." Still kneeling, Reed shifted to meet the commander's steely gaze before slowly and serenely uttering the two words he knew would silence the man.

"Subterranean…gardens." Though he couldn't be certain in the substandard lighting, Malcolm thought Trip looked a few shades paler at the reminder of their visit to Risa. Even if the engineer hadn't actually blanched it was satisfying to see the man's mouth start to open then slam shut. As he stood Malcolm was pleasantly surprised to have T'Pol end her silent observation of them to defend his course of action.

"Actually," she said dryly, "Lieutenant Reed's _was_ a reasonably logical approach, though it was perhaps overly risky and _certainly_ ill-advised."

Malcolm accepted this as praise—coming from a Vulcan, from _this_ Vulcan in particular, high praise indeed—and considered their next hurdle. "I don't suppose the key to these damned shackles is laying about anywhere," he pondered aloud.

The ship lurched as if in reply and Trip cast a worried look at the Armory Officer. "Ah don't think we've got much time ta look fer it, Malcolm. This tub's gonna blow apart sooner rather than later." He looked at the restraints then back at the lieutenant. "What about the chain? Think the phase pistol could cut it? I mean, _without _blowin' a hole in the wall? We could worry 'bout the shackles once we're on the shuttlepod."

Malcolm took a quick scan of the chain before nodding. "Phase pistol should do the trick quite nicely." He noticed T'Pol taking scans of her own. "Find something, Subcommander?"

"Only that Commander Tucker's assessment of 'this tub' is correct. We should leave very soon." Moving to the doorway she crouched to study something on the floor.

"I'm sure our young friend here would concur," Malcolm replied as he drew his pistol. At the sight of the weapon the boy let loose with a fresh bout of wheezing squeaks of panic, shying away from Reed. Malcolm again knelt before the wide-eyed toddler to attempt an explanation. He held the pistol aloft with one hand, holding the other up as if directing traffic to stop. The god-awful sounds coming from the child stopped but the huge panic-filled eyes were still riveted to the weapon.

"It's all right," the lieutenant soothed, risking a light touch on the boy's hands. Heart-wrenching hiccupping sobs filled the room and tears spilled from the golden eyes, threatening to break Malcolm's heart. "Here now, no need for that," he cooed, not quite daring to wipe the dampness from the lad's hairy face. Instead he stroked the child's shoulder in hopes of drawing the boy's attention away from the weapon. Their eyes met.

"Everything is going to be all right," he said. "I'm going to use _this_ to cut _this_," he explained, tapping first the pistol then the chain. He repeated the gestures then continued by patting the boy's shoulder. "_You_ need to look _away_." He tried to turn the child's head on the word "away" but the Lehrite jerked his face away with a frightened squeak as the lieutenant's hand made contact with his muzzle.

Before Reed could try again T'Pol spoke, holstering her scanner as she picked up what she'd been studying and cautiously approached them. "Perhaps this will provide an adequate 'diversion'," she offered, standing near the boy.

"Watch out for his feet," the lieutenant warned.

"Never mind his _feet_," Trip advised, "steer clear of his _mouth_."

Solemnly ignoring them both she dangled the objects—a large cloth pouch with a long broken strap, and an ornate earring—before the child. "I believe," she explained, "that these are his."

The Lehrite's reaction seemed to bear out T'Pol's theory, unwavering golden eyes locking on the items as manacled, begging hands reached for them, pleading moans falling on their ears. His gaze followed as she strategically moved his possessions to make him turn his head. T'Pol shifted her body slightly so that she was between the still-whining child and the lieutenant, grasping the chain near the shackles with her free hand. Malcolm wordlessly motioned Trip to pull the other end of the chain. When the offending links had been slowly drawn tight Reed sliced through them with a single shot.

The unexpected sound and flash startled the Lehrite into silence. Seeing fresh fear and uncertainty in his eyes, T'Pol gently placed the earring and pouch in his hands. A sparkle of joyous gratitude lit his eyes before his eyelids closed. Clutching his belongings to his chest, not even the renewed shuddering of the ship could purge the expression of bliss from the tiny hairy face. Only when Malcolm's hands gently gripped his shoulders did the boy's eyes flicker open. This time there was no fear as the child stared into his rescuer's eyes.

"We have to get you out of here," Malcolm gently urged. The boy merely blinked slowly in reply, offering no resistance as Malcolm carefully lifted him. Cradled in Reed's arms the Lehrite barely noticed as he was carried through the ship, consciousness slipping away long before they reached the shuttlepod.


	3. Chapter 3 Decon

Author's Note: Just wanted to thank everyone for the reviews and encouragement! I hope that, if I should make any glaring errors in characterization (or anything else) you'll let me know. There was a tiny part of Chapter 2 that was nagging at me, where Trip grabs the boy, so I tweaked it slightly and reposted.

In this chapter I'm taking a slight liberty with Malcolm's childhood and his sister—I'm not sure if the show ever mentioned whether she was older or younger, but for the purposes of this story I've made Malcolm the older of the two. If that's incorrect I apologize...

Chapter Three: Decon

Phlox had seemed certain that the boy's condition was, for the moment at least, stable. Sitting in Decon, cradling the still-unconscious tot, Malcolm was dubious of the doctor's assessment. The Lehrite's breathing had become rapid and shallow, heart racing at an impossibly fast rate, and his body temperature had steadily risen to what could not possibly be a healthy level no matter what your species. The child's shivering had become so severe that he'd almost shaken himself right off the bench, so Malcolm had bundled a blanket around the lad and held him, unwilling to have the boy lay on the floor. God only knew how long the babe had been forced to sleep on the floor of the putrid-smelling cell they'd found him in; the lieutenant had silently vowed that the tot would never sleep on deck plating again.

Worse than the fever or racing pulse, though, had been the seizures. The first had assailed the boy just before they reached the shuttlepod, the frail, faun-like body stiffening so unexpectedly that Malcolm had almost dropped him. By the time T'Pol had docked with the ship their passenger had endured another half-dozen of them. Trip—God bless him—had tried to help but obviously had little or no experience with such things. His _own_ firsthand knowledge of the subject had come at a rather young age, and he would give almost anything to erase it from his mind. The seizures had blessedly stopped, Malcolm hoped for good. Seeing that helpless little body thrashing about brought back memories he'd just as soon leave buried.

At least, Reed mused to himself, they'd been able to get the boy tidied up to a reasonable degree, despite the shivering. While on the shuttlepod Trip had told the doctor about the filthy state of their passenger and, when they'd bustled the child to Decon, they found that the good Doctor had somehow managed to procure the necessary supplies. Bless him, Phlox had a water-filled container large enough to bathe the boy as well as a second, smaller one for rinsing waiting for them in Decon, along with an inspiring collection of towels, combs, brushes, a pair of barber's shears, and a hair dryer. Malcolm felt a whole new level of respect for the doctor—the man did have a knack for preparedness. He'd have made a fine Eagle Scout.

Where the Denobulan had managed to find baby shampoo, especially on such short notice, was a mystery. And the conditioning rinse, which lived up to the label's claims of being formulated to aid in detangling snarls, was an absolute godsend given the state of the boy's hair. Or fur. No, Malcolm decided, 'fur' seemed too animal-like. Covering almost his whole body, most of it was just long enough to have become an almost hopeless collection of smelly mattes and knots, the stench of the boy's prison clinging to him as firmly as the tangles.

He and Trip had worked on the tot for an untold amount of time, T'Pol disinclined to assist with much more than handing supplies to them when needed. And, of course, critiquing their methods during most of the procedure. Trip had fast wearied of her 'advice', and made to hand a brush to her. The Vulcan had silently retreated to the far side of Decon after that, and kept her opinions about their technique to herself.

They used the scissors sparingly, hoping to avoid totally butchering the boy's hair. Indeed, most of the snarls combed out without too much tugging, thanks to the conditioner. Once that job was done all that was left was the decon gel. Though it didn't take nearly as long to apply the gel as it had to remove the grunge it was still a time-consuming task to work the stuff through to the skin. Thankfully, the poor little mite had remained obliviously unconscious throughout the entire operation.

"Want me ta hold him fer awhile?" Trip asked from his seat next to him, breaking the Armory Officer's somber reverie.

Malcolm shook his head. "He's not heavy," he answered quietly, absently rubbing the Lehrite's arm through the blanket. "I just wish Phlox would let us out of here—I don't think the lad's doing well at all. His breathing seems more labored." His fingers continued tracing a slow path along the boy's elbow.

"Should only be another half-hour or so," Trip offered. "Doc said the little guy's stable, an' his breathin' sounds okay from here." Picking up the pouch and earring from the bench beside him, Trip feigned interest in the craftsmanship, then took a closer look. They really _were _impressive. He successfully resisted the urge to look in the pouch, satisfying himself with studying the outside of the bag. Many of the markings woven throughout the fabric were also engraved into the silver metal hoop of the ornate, dangling earring. If Hoshi could get a look at them, he thought, she'd probably be able to translate the glyphs in no time. Holding the earring up, he gave it an experimental, gentle shake. It sounded like a tiny wind chime, and the sound didn't seem as random as some wind chimes he'd heard. Was it possible to _tune_ an earring?

The stones inlaid in both the hoop and the metallic bangles hanging from it looked similar to hematite with flecks of turquoise throughout. On closer inspection Trip suspected that the flecks were actually tiny inlaid reproductions of the glyphs, precisely placed within the grey-black stones. He'd need a magnifying glass to confirm it. A _lot_ of time and care had gone into that one piece of jewelry. Remembering the jagged tear in the boy's left ear, Trip swallowed hard. The earring hadn't simply been removed, but rather torn from the flesh. He couldn't even envision _Klingons_ doing that. Well, not to a little boy, anyhow.

The comm chirped. Trip looked at T'Pol sitting on the end of the bench closest to the comm, certain that she was only _pretending_ to be meditating, then at Malcolm, sitting there with a lap full of toddler, and sighed. The comm chirped again as Tucker rose to answer it, returning the boy's possessions to the bench before walking to the panel.

"How is everyone?" Phlox asked in his always-chipper voice.

Trip smiled with the knowledge that the doctor's "happy voice" seldom failed to annoy the hell out of Malcolm. "We're good, Doc. T'Pol's takin' a nap—" at this one graceful Vulcan eyebrow rose high though T'Pol's eyes remained closed (he _knew_ she'd been faking)—"an' our resident mother hen is frettin' as usual. When d'ya suppose we can get outta here?"

"I am _not_ being a 'mother hen'," Malcolm muttered crossly. "I am simply concerned that while we're sitting here doing nothing, this boy's condition is deteriorating."

Trip couldn't resist. "Well Phlox, now that you've heard Dr. Reed's professional medical opinion, what's your take on things?" Though Malcolm refused to reply Trip satisfied himself with the glowering stare the lieutenant fixed on him. Getting a rise out of the Brit had fast become one of his favorite hobbies. Besides, he thought to himself, Reed deserved a little payback for making that crack about Risa, and especially for making it in front of the subcomander. He cast a quick look at the Vulcan.

T'Pol's eyes were open now, her face serene as she spoke. "Though the child's breathing is somewhat…labored…it does not seem any worse than when we entered Decon." She closed her eyes again.

"Lt. Reed," Phlox cooed, "I assure you the boy's vital signs are being closely monitored. And," he added almost too jovially, "not _all _of us have been 'sitting around doing nothing'. I have been researching Lehrite physiology so I may properly treat our patient. The information in the Vulcan Database is sparse and, in all honesty, somewhat inaccurate, but Denobulans have had more recent and more frequent contact with Lehrites."

The subcommander's eyes slid open at the mention of the database's inaccuracy. "The Vulcan Database is quite accurate, Doctor," she stated coolly.

"My apologies, Subcommander. Perhaps 'outdated' would have been a better word, hmm?" the doctor commented. "It is my understanding that the Vulcan contact with Lehrites occurred almost six decades ago and was rather brief in its duration. Perhaps your people might consider contacting them again—a week hardly seems long enough to—"

"A week was more than sufficient to learn what we needed to know about them," T'Pol countered, sounding almost irate. Trip and Malcolm stared at her a moment before Trip chimed in.

"A week? You only maintained contact with them fer a _week_?" He grinned at the lieutenant. Teasing the Vulcan science officer was even better than riling Malcolm and, in all honesty, probably far less dangerous. "Wonder what the Lehrites did ta scare 'em away."

"They did _not_ 'scare us away'," she protested. "We merely found them to be…irritating."

"Irritating?" Trip was incredulous. "You stay in contact with Klingons long enough to gather nine _hundred_ pages of information about 'em, and maintain contact with humans fer a _century_, but these Lehrites made ya tuck tail an' run after just _one week_?" He cast another grin at Reed, who was stifling a chuckle of his own. "Damn. We gotta get some pointers from these folks, Malcolm." As a smile erupted on the lieutenant's face Phlox's voice came back over the comm again.

"Less than a week, actually. According to my information, contact was abruptly severed after, mmm…five days."

"Five and a half," the subcommander corrected him curtly. "Their conduct was…intolerable." The two men struggled unsuccessfully to maintain some small bit of composure, Malcolm's shoulders fairly bouncing as he forced back his laughter and Trip finally laughing openly as he wiped away tears.

"Ya mean ta tell me," the engineer finally said, "that there's a species out there that's even more irritatin' an' intolerable than humans?" T'Pol merely stared back at him with an expression perilously close to a glare.

Shaking his head and still grinning, Trip addressed the doctor again. "So Doc, whadja find out about this intolerable little guy's physiology? You gonna be able ta treat him?"

"I'm fairly sure that treatment won't be a problem. However, I _did _discover something important. It turns out that Lehrites are empathic—that is to say, they can sense the emotions of the people around them. Indeed, it would seem that the emotions of others can have a direct physical impact upon them.

"Now, Lieutenant," he continued, "I know that you find my admonitions about keeping a positive attitude to be tiresome to say the least. But I believe that such an attitude from us is vital to that child's health."

"You honestly expect me to believe," Malcolm retorted, incredulous, "that the best medical treatment for this boy is for all of us to think happy thoughts?"

"No, Lieutenant, not by itself, but I do feel that it will be an integral part of his recovery." Phlox paused briefly before continuing. "I have a few questions about his seizures. When did the first one occur?"

Malcolm was obviously miffed. "While we were heading for the shuttlepod—you already know that."

"Bear with me, Lieutenant. Tell me what was happening just before the first seizure."

Malcolm sighed, exasperated, but decided to humor the Denobulan. "We had just about reached the airlock and the ship felt like it was coming apart at the seams. Anything else?"

"How did you feel?"

"Worried." This was, Malcolm thought, bloody ridiculous.

Trip spoke, his voice eerily quiet. "I didn't think we were gonna make it. Been awhile since I've been that scared."

Malcolm didn't want to acknowledge that he, too, had been afraid, but found himself nodding ever so slightly. He'd been afraid and also, truth be known, angry as hell: not only had someone horribly brutalized the toddler they'd found but then, with the shuttlepod tantalizingly close, the would-be rescue had seemed about to fail. He remembered having his back braced against the bulkhead, struggling to keep his feet beneath him as the ship shuddered. He had looked at the innocent, unconscious child in his arms and had felt an almost-overwhelming sense of failure, as if he personally had failed the boy. There had also been a surge of absolute, murderous fury directed at those responsible for the outrages committed against the lad.

And that was when the first seizure had hit. _Oh. My. God._

"And during the subsequent seizures on the shuttlepod," Phlox forged ahead, "would it be safe to assume that you were still scared and worried? Excluding, of course, Subcommander T'Pol," he hastened to add.

"Yes," Malcolm whispered. He felt nauseous at the memory of what _he'd _been feeling. Images of his sister's tiny frail body, wracked by seizures and a raging fever, had filled his mind. He'd felt inadequate to the task of caring for Maddie, convinced he was watching her die. And on the shuttlepod all these years later he'd felt certain that all he'd be able to do was watch as this alien child's life slipped away. It was Maddie all over again.

"But once you were back on board _Enterprise _you felt differently, hmmm? A sense of relief, perhaps? Happiness?"

"Right," Trip answered hesitantly. The doctor continued.

"And there have been no more seizures since your arrival back on _Enterprise_, correct?"

Malcolm's voice failed him so Trip answered. "Yeah. Sooo…yer tellin' us that our _emotions_ caused the seizures?"

"You weren't the _cause_, no," the doctor assured them. "However, there is a possibility that your emotions could have been a contributing factor. Now, while I believe that 'think happy thoughts' may be an oversimplification, I am fairly certain that if those around him maintain a level of optimism it will aid greatly in his recovery." As if sensing the lieutenant's doubts Phlox elaborated. "For example, while monitoring our guest's biosigns I noticed a measurable improvement during our discussion of Vulcan contact with Lehrites. Mr. Tucker was being, I recall, quite jocular."

"Hey," Trip offered, "if teasin' the subcommander will make the little guy feel better I'm all for it."

"Might want to clear that with _her _first, sir," Malcolm suggested good-naturedly.

"Indeed," T'Pol agreed, her tone cooler that usual. Malcolm almost chuckled along with Trip but the laugh caught in his throat as the Lehrite's body stiffened, a sigh filling the room as all the air went out of the boy's lungs. The tiny form went slack.

"Phlox?" Trip whispered nervously, eyes on Malcolm and the boy.

"I see it," the doctor answered almost casually. "His heart rate has slowed considerably and—"

"I think he's stopped breathing," Reed interrupted in a frightened whisper.

"His readings don't indicate respiratory failure," Phlox reassured him. As if to support the doctor's statement the boy drew in a deep yawning breath, his body slowly stretching again.

Malcolm's face lit up with a relieved smile. "The little bugger's waking up!"

"Mmm," Phlox hummed thoughtfully, "Not quite 'waking up', Lieutenant. Not yet, at least. Very interesting readings here. For lack of a better term, he is 'less unconscious'. If his vital signs continue to improve at their present rate he should regain full consciousness in another hour or two."

"By which time," T'Pol stated, "we will be out of Decon, correct?"

"Perhaps. There is still an alien microbe showing up on my scans that we need to deal with. I will be there shortly with a more potent decon gel for you to use, plus I'm going to want blood samples from all of you."

"No problem, Doc," Trip assured him. "But tell me somethin'. Aside from bein' optimistic, what else can we do ta help the little guy while we're in here? An' have ya got any pointers for us fer when he wakes up? Y'know, what ta do, what not ta do—chances are pretty good that he'll be at least a little bit scared of us. So far about the only thing we know is ta not grab his horns and ta not get near his feet when he's kickin'."

"And to not let him get his teeth into us," Reed added with a tiny smirk and a meaningful nod at Trip's hand.

Phlox chuckled. "Excellent questions and observations, gentlemen. I'll look into it and fill you in when I get there."


	4. Chapter 4 Questions

Author's note: Thanks so much for the reviews and input! Had hoped to get this posted sooner but T'Pol has seemed a little too snarky and I wanted to find an explanation for her attitude. Hope I've pulled it off.

Hope you all have a grand _[insert holiday of choice here]_...not sure if I'll get another chapter up before the new year but I'll try. Thanks again!

Chapter Four: Questions

"I have a question, Doctor," Malcolm inquired from his seat in Decon, inwardly cringing as T'Pol drew a blood sample from the unconscious child on his lap. "You said Lehrites are empathic. If that's true—if they know what others are feeling or thinking—then why didn't this little fellow know that we were trying to help him?" Handing the boy's sample to the lieutenant the subcommander drew Malcolm's blood as the doctor puzzled over the man's query, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'm not entirely certain, Lieutenant," Phlox finally answered. "From the information I have they don't know people's _thoughts_, just emotions. Perhaps our patient is too young to have developed that talent yet. Or it's possible that his own fear was sufficient to impede the ability to sense that your intentions were benevolent.

"To answer your earlier questions, Commander," he continued, "he will undoubtedly be frightened and disoriented when he regains consciousness. You should try to remain calm, speak in comforting tones, and avoid sudden movements. Ensign Sato has been doing some research and has suggested a phrase that may be helpful. _'Taj djahl-nach.' _It is apparently common to several of the various dialects and is, from what Hoshi has been able to learn, a phrase that will convey that you want to help and can be trusted.

"If you smile at him you should try to refrain from showing your teeth—there is conflicting information on this subject, but it is possible that the displaying of teeth might be viewed as threatening or even predatory."

Trip was dumbfounded. "Predatory? Ya mean, he'd think we're gonna…_eat_ him?"

"Precisely. Though as I said, the information we have is contradictory. Best to err on the side of caution in this case, I think."

"Agreed," T'Pol said as she took the Lehrite's blood sample from Malcolm, then moved to draw Trip's sample. "As I recall, they are also a very tactile people. Unless, or course, you have found _that _information to be 'outdated' as well." After drawing her own blood, she deposited all of the samples in the drawer and withdrew two containers of decon gel that Phlox had sent through, handing one to Trip.

"No, no, you're quite correct," Phlox said, smiling through the observation panel as he retrieved the samples. "In Denobulan dealings with Lehrites this seems to have been the only area of contention. Apparently, though, they quickly realized that we dislike being touched and were quite accommodating."

"You were most fortunate," she replied as she began applying gel to herself.

"Y'know, T'Pol," Trip teased, "if I didn't know better I'd _swear _I detected a note of sarcasm in your voice." Standing over Malcolm, with his back toward T'Pol's glacial stare, he put the container of gel on the bench then motioned to the boy. "Hand 'im over, Lieutenant. We'll do it just like before." He sat next to Reed and reached for the Lehrite, but Malcolm hesitated.

"C'mon, Malcolm," Trip urged, "I promise, I won't break him."

"It's not that," he replied softly, "it's just…" Malcolm's voice trailed off, the thought left unspoken. The corner of his mouth twitched at the suppressed thought and with a resigned sigh he gingerly slid the child onto the commander's lap.

Trip shot him a crooked grin. "Ya know, I _have_ held a baby before," he tried to reassure his friend as Reed began smearing the gel onto himself.

"I know…actually, I was more concerned that _I'd_ be the one to drop him," Malcolm attempted to joke.

Phlox spoke up. "You've been doing an excellent job, Lieutenant. His vital signs have been slowly but steadily improving under your ministrations." Malcolm stood to help T'Pol apply the gel to her back as the doctor continued. "As the subcommander has pointed out, Lehrites are a tactile people, very much so as it turns out. I believe humans might call them a 'touchy-feely' sort. You shouldn't be surprised or overly alarmed if he does a lot of touching, caressing…that sort of thing. And gentle, soothing touches from you are, I'm sure, doing him a world of good, as is the quiet, peaceful environment he's currently experiencing. So would some optimism on your part, hmm?" he added in a good-natured, teasing tone.

Reed gave him a tiny smile. "It's been suggested that optimism isn't my strong suit," he joked, "but I'm working on it." He paused, momentarily lost in the sensation as T'Pol started methodically gelling his back, then remembered what he was going to ask. "Is there anything else that might help him along? Aside from a quiet environment and happy thoughts?" A genuine smile crept onto Malcolm's face but faded as he saw Phlox frown. "Everything all right, Doctor?"

"Yes, it's just that there _was_ something else I was going to mention, but it's slipped my mind." Phlox's brow furrowed as he muttered to himself, reviewing what he'd already gone through. "Empathic abilities, sudden movements, teeth, touching, tone of voice…I _know_ there was something else." His smile returned as he remembered. "Ah, yes…_music_! That was it—they love music! Do any of you know any lullabies?"

T'Pol blinked, her hands abruptly stopping at the small of Reed's back. "Surely you're not serious," she deadpanned. "You expect us to _sing_ to him?"

"Not if you don't _want_ to, of course. I believe humming would suffice." Feeling her hands momentarily tense painfully on his back helped Malcolm refrain from laughing aloud, and Trip could see enough of her profile to know that restraint on his part would be a _very_ good idea. It wasn't easy for him, especially since Phlox had been quite earnest in his reply. The engineer planted his chin firmly on his chest until he'd purged most of the wide grin from his face. Still, he couldn't resist saying _something_.

Eyes twinkling, Trip finally looked up. "I could have the doc bring me my harmonica," he offered. Before T'Pol or Reed could object Phlox responded.

"Best to stick with vocalizations for the time being, I think, hmm?" Trip shrugged good-naturedly as Malcolm returned to the bench, moving to stand behind the engineer.

"As soon as I finish your back we can switch places, then start on the little one once you're finished," the lieutenant offered, slathering the gel across Trip's shoulders.

"Doctor," T'Pol's cool voice filled the room, "how much longer must we remain in here?"

"Oh, probably not more than another hour or so, depending of course on the results of the blood tests and the efficiency of the gel. I'll contact you when I have the results." He strolled away before there could be any objections. Resigned to the extended confinement T'Pol settled on the end of the bench and closed her eyes, determined to put the afternoon's unpleasantness out of her mind with meditation.

"I've got a question for ya, Subcommander," Trip drawled from his seat, sounding mildly annoyed. As if in slow motion the Vulcan's head turned, eyes gliding open to look at the engineer.

"Yes?"

"What, exactly, is your problem?" the commander asked, obviously irritated. "Seems like you've been lookin' down yer nose at this little guy since ya first laid eyes on him. Ya wouldn't help us get 'im cleaned up, an ya act like even bein' in the same room with 'im is makin' ya _unclean_ or somethin'."

"Vulcans and Lehrites do not associate with one another," she casually replied, as if that statement explained everything.

Trip pressed on. "Yeah, yeah…Lehrites are 'irritating and intolerable,'" he shot back. "Well, they _haven't_ exactly cornered the market on _irritating_, ya know. Besides, whatever it was that got your people's skivvies in a knot happened over five decades before this fella was even a gleam in his daddy's eye. How logical is it ta hold a grudge against _him_?" The lieutenant stopped applying the gel to Trip's back as one irate Vulcan eyebrow arched elegantly upward.

"I assure you, Vulcans do _not_ hold grudges."

"Far be it from me to tell you what to do, Commander," Malcolm cut in gently, "but I _would_ like to remind you of the doctor's instructions regarding our young guest. Specifically the part about remaining calm and speaking in comforting tones. Perhaps this isn't the best time for this…debate."

Looking down at the boy in his arms Tucker took a deep breath, holding it a moment before slowly exhaling. "Point taken, Malcolm," he replied. "But how good is it for him ta have one of us treat 'im like he's somethin' they'd scraped offa the bottom of their boot? C'mon, T'Pol—what the hell's so all-fired terrible about bein' around this helpless little boy?" T'Pol wordlessly looked at the Lehrite, and Malcolm could have sworn he saw her wrinkle her nose. Yes—there it was again. Barely perceptible, but her nose had most decidedly twitched.

Remembering the stench from the child's cell on the alien ship, Malcolm played a hunch. "Subcommander…if it's not too personal a question…has your nasal numbing agent worn off?"

T'Pol's head snapped up. "Not…entirely," she answered after a long pause.

"Little wonder it's been difficult for you to be near him," Reed commiserated. "He _was_ rather…ripe. I imagine we are, too, for that matter."

"Indeed," T'Pol stoically agreed.

Slowly shaking his head, Trip tried to apologize. "I'm sorry, Subcommander. I forgot about that sensitive olfactory system of yours. But ya coulda _said_ somethin' about the smell botherin' ya, instead of actin' so…so…Vulcan." Seeing the look she was giving him he added, "Yeah yeah, I know—you _are_ a Vulcan. But would it have violated some Vulcan cultural taboo ta tell us that the smell was gettin' to ya?"

"Complaining about the smell," T'Pol answered, "would not have shortened our stay in Decon. And I did not anticipate our stay here being extended." The two senior officers stared at each other a long while before Trip finally looked away, casting his gaze to the floor a moment then looking back at the subcommander.

"Guess it's a good thing for me that you don't hold grudges, huh? All the same, I wanna apologize fer gettin' so riled atcha, and fer teasin' ya before. When you and Phlox were, um…debating the accuracy of the Vulcan Database. Why don'tcha go ahead an' do some more meditatin'…maybe it'll help take yer mind offa the odor. We'll try ta keep the noise down. And the smell."

T'Pol inclined her head in acknowledgement then turned her attention toward the puzzled expression on Lt. Reed's face. "Is there a problem, Lieutenant?"

"No…no problem, Subcommander," he assured her, resuming applying the gel to Trip's back. "I was curious, though—couldn't you have asked the doctor to bring more of the nasal numbing agent when we spoke to him earlier?"

"I doubt that he has a sufficient quantity," she replied dryly. The men knew she hadn't meant to make a joke—had she?—so they successfully suppressed the urge to comment.

Finished with the commander's back, Malcolm reclaimed his seat. Once the boy was again transferred to his lap he began applying gel to the slumbering face before him, fingers tenderly working the goo through the silken ringlets of reddish-brown hair along the child's forehead and temples. His fingers moved methodically along the shorter, peachfuzz-like hair covering the rest of the Lehrite's face then the short beard along the bottom of the boy's chin. He then returned his attention to the temples and massaged gel through the long hair covering the tot's head. By the time Trip had finished applying the gel to himself Malcolm had gotten most of the boy's head done. Facing the lieutenant, the commander straddled the bench and began working on the satyr-like legs as Reed gently started on the horns.

"Sooo…Trip said softly, mindful of his promise to T'Pol, "I guess I don't need my harmonica after all. What's that song, anyhow?" Greeted by a puzzled expression from his friend, he elaborated. "The song you were just hummin' to tha little guy. I don't recognize it. What's it called?"

Damn. He hadn't realized he'd even _been _humming, and certainly wouldn't have meant to be heard. "Just something that used to help my sister nod off when she was a tot. She had some…problems when she was little, and singing to her helped sometimes." That was a lie of omission, one he'd soon have to recant judging from the questioning look on Trip's face. He returned his attention to the boy, gingerly applying a last dab of gel to the base of the damaged horn before moving on to the child's neck and throat. Fingers lingering on the front of the lad's throat Malcolm again noticed the difference in the texture of the hair. He'd first detected it during their initial bathing of the child but had taken it for a result of inadequate grooming of the boy during his captivity. He knew better after the first application of gel when he'd drawn Trip's attention to it. The engineer had christened it with the remarkably scientific label of "a boo-boo".

"So does this song that helped yer sister nod off have a _name_?" Trip ventured to ask.

Anticipating the taunts his taste in music might prompt Malcolm contemplated saying he didn't recall, but at the last instant he relented. "'Not While I'm Around'. It's from 'Sweeney Todd'." Rather than the expected teasing, his response was met with a thoughtful nod.

"Hmm…" Trip pondered aloud. "Musicals, huh? Always figured you fer a fan of classical stuff—'specially the 1812 Overture. Nice ta know yer tastes are a little more varied than that." Malcolm allowed a wry smile to light on his lips as he massaged gel onto the boy's shoulders then worked his way down one arm.

Having finished the legs Trip started on the other arm before pressing forward. "So, Malcolm," he began hesitantly, "if ya don't mind my askin'…would yer sister's 'problems' have anythin' ta do with the way you been actin'?"

"I'm not sure I follow," the lieutenant replied unconvincingly.

"Oh, c'mon. Ever since we laid eyes on this kid you've been actin' peculiar. Well, more peculiar than usual."

"I am _not_ acting _peculiar_," Reed objected. "And given his physical appearance, I'm not certain that calling him a _kid_ is a good idea. Seems rather disrespectful." With the utmost care the men shifted the boy about, leaning his chest against Trip so Malcolm could reach the curly-haired back and tail.

"Malcolm, ya _know_ I didn't mean 'kid' like that. And you _have_ been actin' outta sorts. So spill it—what's goin' on?"

Malcolm was sorely tempted to tell him to sod off but several things stopped him, not the least of which was the knowledge that his friend was right. Instead he met the question with silence, concentrating on kneading the gel through the soft, thick curls. "Lift him up a bit," he instructed. "I can't quite get to his bum." Trip obliged, tenderly draping the child's head over his shoulder and lifting the small body with ease. Studying Malcolm's face, he'd just about decided that his question would remain unanswered when the lieutenant broke his silence.

"She was about the same age as this little tyke," he started, his voice soft and low.


	5. Chapter 5 Maddie

NOTES: Feedback so far has been swell! I seem to be doing an adequate job of keeping folks in character, which is a huge relief since that's one of my main worries. There was one review that 'accused' T'Pol of making a joke in Chapter 4, but it's more a case of something she said in all seriousness being interpreted by her human colleagues as being humorous rather than having her _intentionally _making a joke. (She genuinely doubted whether Phlox had an adequate supply of the numbing agent**—**honest!)

Another concern is accuracy in "real" situations, such as my Eagle Scout reference in an earlier chapter**—**it never occurred to me that Eagle Scouts might be exclusive to the US. (I may be taking liberties with Scouting in this chapter as well...I blame Malcolm, since he's the one who mentioned how many merit badges he'd earned.) Please, if I mangle anything _too _horribly, let me know and I'll see about doing damage control...

Okay...time to take further liberties with Malcolm's childhood...

********************

Chapter Five: Maddie

"My parents decided that, at thirteen, I was old enough to baby-sit my sister while they went on an out-of-town overnight visit to a friend's house," Malcolm said softly, mindful of the subcommander meditating nearby. "I didn't particularly want to do it, and Maddie was just old enough to loathe the idea. Needless to say, we were outvoted. More precisely, we didn't _have _a vote in the matter.

"Actually, Mum was none too keen on the idea, either, but Father convinced her that everything would be fine. Once Mum coerced him into asking a neighbor woman to be on standby, that is. If I had any problems I was supposed to ring her up for help." Finished gelling the boy's tail and buttocks Malcolm motioned for Trip to ease the boy back down. "Your turn," he told the engineer, holding the boy so Trip could apply gel to the Lehrite's privates.

"Ah hate this part," Trip told him. "Makes me feel like a dirty old man or somethin'."

Malcolm shook his head. "Rubbish. It's no different than putting ointment on a baby's rashy bum when you change their nappies."

"I suppose yer right," Trip conceded. He grinned after a moment. "Besides, if T'Pol was right about their horns bein' an 'intimate part of their anatomy', yer at least as much a dirty old man as I am. Maybe even moreso." With a half-smile and a faint chuckle Reed shook his head. Sometimes the commander could be entertainingly incorrigible.

"All set," Tucker announced when he'd finished his task. Reed settled the boy onto his lap, the right side of the horned head nestled against his chest.

Lips pursed, Malcolm shook his head. "Speaking of horns," he said, "that left one doesn't look good at all—it's definitely been knocked loose, and I think it's cracked at the base." He sighed dejectedly at the thought of how it might have come to be damaged, letting silence settle over the room again.

"I had always _hated _that woman," he finally stated. "Angela Bascom. I was convinced that she was the most miserable, cantankerous, judgmental woman on the planet. And it seemed to be her mission in life to pry into the affairs of everyone around her. The very thought of asking her for help set my teeth on edge. I decided that, if I was going to have to look after Maddie, I would be the best damned sitter she'd ever had, and we would bloody well _NOT_ have to call upon that woman or anyone else for help.

"When the day of our parents' departure came my sister claimed she was sick, but Father would have none of it. Despite Maddie's theatrics and Mum's misgivings they went on their way. Maddie settled down after a bit and we even played a few games. It was a good deal more fun than I'd imagined it would be. Didn't think too much of it when she didn't eat much dinner—I just thought she was missing Mum." He paused to adjust an unruly curl on the boy's forehead then sighed.

"Bedtime came and she groused again about not feeling well and wanting Mum. I did my best to put her at ease even though I was certain she was faking. I read to her a bit, rocked her, put her in bed, then checked the usual hiding places for monsters." Trip smiled at the image of a young Malcolm Reed conducting a security sweep of his sister's room.

"I sang that song to her once the monster check was finished and she nodded right off. Spent the evening reading and patting myself on the back for doing such a _splendid_ job of tending to her." The last was said with bitter sarcasm, then his voice grew terribly quiet. "I was so _certain_ she was playing at being sick. I was quite irritated with her when I heard her thump out of bed an hour or so later. Went to her room all set to give her a sound scolding only to find her on the floor, throwing up. Are you familiar with something called 'projectile vomiting'?" Tucker nodded, looking ill at the mere mention of it.

"By the time I got her to the loo," Malcolm continued, "she'd redecorated her bed, the carpet, her pajamas, my clothes, and a good portion of the hallway. I hate to think what it would have looked like if she'd finished her dinner. I helped her strip down and put her in the tub to try and clean her up. That's when I realized how hot her little body felt. Her temperature was absolutely skyrocketing and I didn't have the vaguest idea what to do for her."

"So you had ta call Angela, huh?" Trip asked.

A cross between a chuckle and a disgusted snort came out of Malcolm. "I _should_ have called her, but I _didn't_. The thought never crossed my mind because I was too busy being scared out of my wits. I stripped down to my skivvies and got in the tub with Maddie, got her scrubbed up, and just…sat there with her, holding her, talking to her. She felt so miserable, and I didn't know how to make it better. Took a while for me to realize we weren't alone.

"Angela had let herself in…brought over a batch of cookies for us," he said, chuckling faintly. "When I saw her standing there I half expected her to give me a thorough tongue-lashing, and I didn't even care. I started babbling on about Maddie being sick, making no sense whatsoever. It felt like it took forever for Angela to calm me down, but I suppose it was only a few moments. She felt of Maddie's head then told me that we were to stay right there while she went and called her husband. She got back in under a minute, but not before the seizures started. I froze. Just sat there holding her thrashing body, shrieking for Angela, certain I was watching her die. Angela had to give me a solid whack across the face to stop me screaming.

"She told me to keep Maddie's head up then started filling the tub with cold water. Seemed totally daft to me but it worked. Maddie's temperature started coming down and the seizure stopped. Then her husband Jeremy showed up with her med kit—turns out she was a medic by profession. Jeremy started cleaning up while Angela tended to my sister. He had the bed made up fresh and most of the mess cleaned up by the time we had Maddie ready for bed.

"The poor little thing was terribly restless so I sat with her, holding her hand and singing to her until she fell asleep. I didn't want to leave her—I was afraid to even let go of her hand. I thought if I left, if I let go…she'd die." Malcolm heaved a sigh as he stared at the wall, silently reliving it all. "After a while Maddie dropped off to sleep, then Angela hauled me off to the kitchen and put on some tea. I felt I'd made a real hash of everything, and she knew it. We talked for ages, and somehow she made it a little...better."

"It wasn't your fault yer sister got sick," Trip commented.

"I _know_ that…but at the time I felt as though I'd handled everything so badly. Hell, Maddie _told _me she felt ill and I didn't believe her. And when she needed me I panicked…froze like a bloody statue." Trip silently shook his head, forcing back the reassurances he knew his friend wouldn't accept.

Malcolm stayed silent, mentally reviewing not only the long-ago night of his sister's illness but also the rescue of the Lehrite. "I suppose," he finally admitted, "that's why I've been acting _peculiar_, why I was so short with T'Pol back on that ship, so determined to get that oxygen mask on him. I couldn't just stand by and do _nothing_. Not again. It was just too…familiar. It's also," he confessed, "why I was so hesitant to hand him over to you earlier. I wasn't worried about one of us _dropping _him, I simply felt I had to keep holding him because if I let go..." His voice caught and he fell silent.

"He'd die," Trip finished the thought.

"I know. Bloody stupid of me," Reed berated himself.

Trip realized how momentous an occasion this truly was: Malcolm Reed, master of keeping his private life private, had willingly shared an intimate—and painful—fragment of his past. Malcolm was usually loath to allow even the tiniest chink in the wall that he'd erected, but this time the man had willingly dislodged a few of the bricks. Trip knew that one wrong word on his part would undoubtedly slam those bricks back into place. He pondered his next words carefully. "Angela taught you what to do when somebody's havin' a seizure?" he ventured.

Malcolm nodded, looking almost wistful. "Mmm. Most important thing is to keep a level head, and to move anything that the patient might hurt themselves on. Unless you've got a hypospray full of anticonvulsants handy you pretty much have to just ride it out. You don't usually plunk them into a tub of cold water, though**—**that was to bring Maddie's temperature down."

"Well, I'm glad you were with me on that shuttlepod, 'cuz I didn't have a clue 'bout what ta do fer the little guy. Remind me ta send old Angela a thank-you note."

Malcolm smiled faintly. "She taught me quite a bit about first aid, among other things. I owe several of my merit badges to her tutoring skills, as well as one or two that Jeremy helped with. We became quite close." A genuine smile spread across his face. "Hard to imagine that I ever disliked either of them. Now they're almost like family."

"Aunt Angela and Uncle Jeremy, huh?" Trip teased. Malcolm nodded but as he opened his mouth to reply the Lehrite stretched again. The boy's mouth opened in a wide yawn, several small squeaks escaping from him as he wriggled about. As the yawn faded his left arm drifted up and over Malcolm's right shoulder and tugged. Sleepily pulling himself up he began nuzzling Malcolm's neck contentedly as he crammed his muzzle against the warm soft flesh beneath the lieutenant's left ear.

Malcolm struggled to stifle a shiver. "Good lord, his nose is _cold_!" he exclaimed in a whisper.

"Maybe that's a good thing," Trip whispered back in reply, standing slowly. "I'll check in with Phlox." As he reached the comm panel he looked back and smiled. Eyes closed, Malcolm was tenderly stroking the Lehrite's back and whispering in the boy's ear. Thumb hovering over the comm button Trip strained to hear what the lieutenant was saying. His smile widened as he realized that Malcolm wasn't speaking—he was singing oh so quietly, his voice too soft for Trip to make out the words. _'What I wouldn't give to have my camera,'_ he thought as he pressed the button. "Tucker to Phlox," he called softly, casting a quick glance at the still-meditating subcommander before returning his attention to Malcolm and the boy. The Lehrite's chin rested on top of Reed's shoulder, his slumbering face the very picture of contentment.

"Phlox here, Commander," came the doctor's chipper reply, loud enough to make the engineer jump.

"Hey Doc," Trip said quietly. "Looks like the little guy's waking up. He's moving around some, even started nuzzling Malcolm's neck. Mal says his nose is cold—d'ya think that's a good thing or a bad thing?" He was grateful that the doctor's voice came back far more quietly.

"I'm not entirely certain, but I believe it's a good sign. His readings show a great deal of improvement and his temperature, though still slightly above normal, has come down considerably. I was just about to notify you that you are all free to leave Decon. Would one of you be so kind as to bring our young guest to Sickbay?"

"No problem, Doc. I'll have Malcolm bring him to ya, an' I'll tag along so you can give mah hand a clean bill of health. Tucker out." Breaking the connection Trip took a moment to contemplate whether or not to rouse T'Pol, deciding that it would be best to leave her to her meditations. After the ribbing he'd given her earlier, he figured he owed her that much.

Turning his attention back to the far end of the bench he was pleased to see the Lehrite's eyelids slowly slide open. The peaceful, groggy eyes surveyed the room, blinking several times as they at last fell upon the commander. Nose wrinkling, the disoriented boy sniffed at the air several times, puzzled uncertainty showing on his face. As if deciding to ignore the unfamiliar surroundings he closed his eyes before again burying his face in Reed's neck.

Wanting a better vantage point Trip silently moved along the wall to stand behind the lieutenant. He resisted the urge to tell Malcolm about the boy opening his eyes, worried that his voice might startle the child. Instead Tucker simply watched, smiling, as the boy's head moved again, tiny brow furrowing as his head moved sluggishly away from Reed's neck. Eyes opening again, the tot directed his perplexed stare at Malcolm's head. Trip's smile widened as Reed turned his head slightly to look at their guest. The commander remembered to keep his teeth concealed and hoped the lieutenant would do the same.

Confusion was replaced by comprehension as the boy continued staring at Malcolm, his little mouth opening wide. Still-tender hand throbbing as if offering a warning, Trip's smile faded as he realized how close Malcolm's left ear was to the tyke's mouth. He tried to alert his friend but pain-filled squeals shattered the silence before he could utter a word.


	6. Chapter 6 Awake

Pronunciation of _Taj djahl-nach:_ _taj_ as in "Taj Mahal". The "dj" in _djahl_ is the same as in the name "Django Reinhardt", the word rhymes with "hall". _nach_ rhymes with "Bach". Emphasis is placed on _taj_ and _nach_, with a tiny pause between _taj_ and _djahl_. And yeah, I've probably spent _waaay_ too much time thinking about it...

Chapter Six: Awake

Splayed on the floor at Trip's feet Malcolm clutched his hand to the side of his head, his ear still protesting the shrill sound that had been shot down it from such close range. The shrieking Lehrite had somehow managed to propel himself from Reed's lap to the far wall of the Decon chamber, providing a splendid example of an equal but opposite reaction by sending the lieutenant flying backward off the bench. Though not able to _stop_ it Trip had at least been able to _slow_ Reed's fall, no doubt preventing an embarrassing injury. After all, how would it have looked if the man in charge of the safety of the crew wound up in a cast because a toddler shoved him off a bench?

Trip helped Malcolm to his feet and gazed first at the whimpering, apprehensive boy sprawled on the floor then at T'Pol, who was also on her feet.

"_What_…did you _do_ to him?" she asked accusingly, her voice uncharacteristically loud.

"We didn't do _anything_ to him," Trip protested just as loudly. "He woke up and went right into full panic mode."

"Would you two keep your voices down, _please_!?" Malcolm fairly hissed at them. "He's frightened enough as it is." Taking a deep breath he forced himself to calm down, mindful of the doctor's earlier advice about happy thoughts, and tried to decide on a course of action that wouldn't further terrify the lad. Then he noticed the blood on the floor near the boy's right hoof. _Damn, damn, damn. _Whatever the boy had struck his foot on had reopened the wound on the bottom of the hoof. They'd tended the injury on the shuttlepod, between seizures. There was a good deal more blood this time.

Cautiously approaching the child he first crouched in front of him then slowly sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. The boy scrambled to sit up, back pressed to the wall. His bewildered, terrified gaze shifted endlessly to the room's other occupants, along the walls and ceiling, back to the people. Malcolm knew without a doubt what the Lehrite was doing: trying to find a way out, a place to hide, or deciding which of the creatures surrounding him was going to hurt him first. Probably all three.

When Malcolm spoke, the boy's full attention rested on him. "Hello," he murmured soothingly. "There's nothing for you to be afraid of here. We just want to help you. You're perfectly safe." Mercifully, the heart-wrenching whining had stopped, but the youngster continued stealing furtive glances around the room.

"It is doubtful that he understands you," T'Pol declared.

The lieutenant responded calmly, eyes never wavering from the child. "It doesn't necessarily matter if he understands the _words_, Subcommander. What matters is the _tone_. Hopefully a soft, soothing tone will ease his fears and help calm him down." Indeed, the boy had already calmed considerably and, although he still cast nervous glances at Trip and T'Pol—especially T'Pol, it seemed to Malcolm—most of his attention was now on the man directly before him.

Malcolm offered a gentle smile as he continued speaking to the boy. "We're not going to hurt you," he assured the tot. With great care he extended his hands, palms up, grieved by the fearful golden eyes staring back at him. Time to see if Hoshi was right about that phrase she'd come up with. "Taj djahl-nach. You're safe now. Taj djahl-nach."

The fear evaporated from the child's face and he gazed searchingly into Reed's eyes. Leaning toward Malcolm the Lehrite sniffed the air, obviously trying to puzzle something out. He continued sniffing at Malcolm as if he'd found something familiar about the man, resting his hands on the man's still-outstretched palms as he struggled to lean closer. As slowly as possible Malcolm leaned forward to accommodate the child. Faces mere inches away from each other the Lehrite's nose homed in on Reed's mouth. His eyes slid halfway closed, giving him an almost drunken appearance as he kept breathing in the man's scent.

"Taj djahl-nach," Malcolm whispered a third time, his breath filling the boy's nostrils.

Nose twitching slightly the Lehrite's eyes closed the rest of the way as he leaned back against the wall. Face scrunching up he sneezed a tiny, almost dainty sneeze then opened his eyes to look again at the lieutenant. Leaning forward again he reached toward Malcolm, petite fingers of his right hand grazing the human's chest and patting ever so slightly. He then cupped his hand gingerly over Malcolm's mouth, taking a deep breath before covering his own mouth and nose and drawing in another deep breath. Seeing the perplexed look on the man's face, the Lehrite dropped his head and sighed in defeat. He didn't see the smile of comprehension gradually light on Malcolm's face until the lieutenant urged him to look up with a light touch on the shoulder.

"Here now…you give up too easily. You want to know about the oxygen mask?" Eyes bright, the boy nodded eagerly. Malcolm's smile grew. "Yes, I'm the one who put the mask on you." The revelation was met first with an expression of gratitude then puzzlement. The boy again patted Reed's chest then reached up to motion from one of the man's shoulders over his head to the other shoulder. He then stroked the back of Malcolm's arm and hand before cocking his head in a questioning manner.

That one had the lieutenant stumped. He'd always been reasonably talented at charades but the strange gestures of the boy had him flummoxed. The youngster sensed that the man was stymied and sighed again, but this time he didn't look away. Instead he seemed to ponder his next move, and Malcolm urged him on. "Show me again," Reed implored. The boy again stroked Malcolm's arm, repeated the motion over his head, then added a new gesture: palm toward the man's face, the Lehrite flipped his hand upward almost as though playing peek-a-boo. Again the questioning gaze fixed on Reed, and again he was mystified. A moment passed as he struggled to comprehend the gestures, and the boy cast a defeated look at him. A drawling voice behind the lieutenant reminded him that he was not alone with the boy.

"It's okay, little fella," Trip encouraged. "Try it once more, okay? We'll see if we can get it figured out." Emboldened by the commander's encouragement the lad again caressed Malcolm's arm, moved his hand over the man's head from one shoulder to the other, then changed the gesture in front of Malcolm's face to make it look as though he was lifting something from the lieutenant's chin and away from his face.

"Well I'll be damned," the engineer murmured. "Yer EV suit, Malcolm. I think he's askin' about yer EV suit. That last move he made was like he was liftin' the faceplate."

Reed was impressed—he hadn't put it together, but upon reflection was sure the commander was correct. The looping motions over his head were probably an indication of the helmet, and the hand in front of his face certainly could indicate his faceplate being opened. He puzzled another moment before he put together the bit with his arm, realizing at last that the boy was no doubt indicating the gloves and sleeves of the suit.

"Good Lord…I never even considered how different we'd look to him." Malcolm tried to think of a way to explain an EV suit to their little friend as those innocent golden eyes stared up at him, awaiting an answer. "Well," he forged ahead, "when we have to go someplace where the environment is dangerous, we have to wear special clothes to protect us." Head cocked, the boy's expression clearly conveyed his doubts.

Trip couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Looks like he thinks yer makin' it up, Malcolm," he said softly.

"I assure you, I'm _not _making it up," Reed replied earnestly. "After Dr. Phlox tends your injuries I will personally show you an EV suit. You can even try on the helmet if you wish. Would you like that?" An eager nod came almost immediately.

"So much for him not understandin' us, huh T'Pol?" Trip ribbed the subcommander. His smile faded as the boy began shivering again.

Malcolm motioned to his friend. "Trip…the blanket. Where's the blanket?" The boy watched cautiously as Trip picked up the blanket from the floor.

"Hey there, little fella," the engineer said gently, offering a small smile to the child as he handed the blanket to Malcolm. He was rewarded with a timid smile before the boy turned his attention back to Malcolm. Stepping back Trip felt something soft beneath his bare foot. He bent to pick up the boy's pouch from the floor next to the bench then spotted the earring beneath the bench. Retrieving the items he moved to the back of the room, deciding to hold onto them until he could return them without spooking their guest. He tied the broken ends of the strap together as he waited.

As Malcolm draped the blanket over the Lehrite's shoulders the boy once more laid a hand on the lieutenant's chest then raised his tiny hands up, holding his wrists together as if again bound. Slowly pulling his wrists apart he cocked his head quizzically, questioning eyes on Reed.

The lieutenant understood at once. "Um…no," he admitted before motioning to Trip. "Commander Tucker removed the shackles. He has an unsettling knack for picking locks."

"It's a gift," Tucker replied, voice brimming with false modesty. "Y'know, we should prob'ly git him up offa the floor," he told Malcolm, stepping forward and offering a hand to the Armory Officer. Casting an agreeing glance at Trip Malcolm reached up to grasp his friend's hand but froze as a small warm hand timidly caressed his cheek. Facing the boy again Malcolm let his hand drop away from Trip's and smiled at the child. Trip moved away, not wanting the boy to feel crowded.

The Lehrite reached up again, resting his fingertips lightly just above Reed's right eye before tracing feathery lines down the side of the man's face. Then he caressed his own face in the same manner as if comparing the texture of the human's smooth features with his own hairier countenance. Receiving no sign of objection the boy repeated the action, this time starting at the center of Malcolm's forehead and working his way down the middle of the face before him, lingering briefly over the nose, lips, and chin. Feeling his own face once again the boy's fingers hesitated at his own muzzle, exploring the differences with fascinated wonder. He seemed to barely notice as Malcolm lifted him from the floor, his tiny fingers busily probing through the man's hair in an apparent search for any trace of horns.

Reed eased the Lehrite onto the bench, legs straddling the seat, then settled in behind him as T'Pol approached with the medkit. With a strained squeak the boy flinched away from her, seizing Malcolm's hand with surprising strength.

Though it seemed against all logic to her T'Pol found herself speaking to the child. "I will not harm you," she assured him. "I merely wish to tend to your injury." To her amazement—though amazement was something she would never admit to—the boy immediately relaxed, his expression changing from near-panic to slight uneasiness. Despite his responses to Tucker and Reed, T'Pol had doubted that the child could fully understand what they'd been saying. It was possible, she supposed, that she'd been mistaken.

With more gentleness than either man thought her capable of she lifted the injured foot and placed it on the bench. For a time the boy intently watched her as she bandaged his hoof, but his attention soon moved to her face. As he stared at her his unease was replaced by obvious puzzlement, which Trip could see from his new vantage point near the comm panel.

"We have trouble figurin' her out too, sometimes," he told the boy. "She's Subcommander T'Pol." Cautiously extending his hand, palm toward the woman, the boy motioned toward her as he had with Malcolm and Trip, though he didn't actually touch her. He then placed his hands on either side of his head and pantomimed, drawing long pointed ears with his index fingers.

Trip could barely suppress his grin. "Guess humans aren't the only ones that notice those ears," he said.

Ignoring the commander T'Pol finished with the boy's foot and met the Lehrite's gaze. "I am a Vulcan. These two," she told him, motioning to Malcolm and Trip, "are Humans." Fidgeting nervously the boy nodded before again motioning to T'Pol and repeating the 'ear' gesture, then patting his own chest with his palm before tapping his fingertips on his horns. There was a sorrowful look on the boy's face as he looked at the Vulcan, almost as though he thought he'd offended her.

"I believe," Malcolm guessed, "that he thinks Vulcans dislike Lehrites." The boy nodded vigorously. The revelation left the woman momentarily speechless but Trip came to her defense. Sort of.

"Well that can't be right. I mean, how could _anybody_ dislike such a cute little fella?" The tot repeated his previous gestures indicating T'Pol and her ears then himself and his horns. Trip persisted. "You think a Vulcan wouldn't like you just 'cuz yer a Lehrite?" The question received a solemn nod. "Well," Trip replied, "that hardly seems logical, and I know Vulcans well enough to know that they always try ta do everything logically. B'sides," he added, "T'Pol's the one who gotcher stuff back for ya. Ah don't think she woulda done that fer somebody she didn't like." Stepping toward the bench he handed the earring and pouch to the boy.

Handling them with great care the Lehrite reclaimed his possessions, lovingly fingering the earring before lifting the flap of the pouch and tucking it safely inside. His timid questioning eyes met those of the Vulcan before he leaned forward and placed a hesitant hand on her arm. After a moment he withdrew his hand and patted the pouch then gestured to himself, seeking confirmation of what he'd been told.

T'Pol at last broke her silence. "It did not take long to determine that they belonged to you. Returning them to you was the only logical course of action." The boy smiled at her before respectfully bowing his head in an obvious gesture of thanks, then haltingly raised his hand to offer a Vulcan salute. T'Pol's eyebrows shot up but she immediately clamped down on her surprise. Somberly she returned the salute.

Eyes shimmering with gleeful satisfaction the Lehrite wriggled excitedly on the bench, his back pressing into Malcolm's belly. Tipping his head back the boy smiled up at Reed, who smiled back at the upside-down face beaming up at him.

"Time to get you to Sickbay, young man."


	7. Chapter 7

NOTES: For those who are wondering how the child is able to understand what's being said, I'm hoping this chapter helps answer that question. For those who are wondering about him not speaking, I refer you to chapters 1 and 4...I alluded to a reason there though I have not given the specifics as yet. And don't feel badly if you didn't remember it—I had to go back and re-read it to be sure I'd mentioned it.

Had originally written this chapter on a friend's laptop while dogsitting, but that laptop is currently in the computer ER and it turns out my efforts to save my work to a disk were a dismal failure. Consequently I've had to rebuild this chapter entirely from memory, and I've got a mind like a steel sieve. If the original survives whatever is done to the ailing laptop and there is anything worthwhile in it that I've missed I'll try to integrate it with this...

Sorry this chapter's so short, but that's just how it happened...

********************

Chapter Seven

Listening to people's feelings without their permission was considered quite rude, but how else was he supposed to find out if these people were going to hurt him? Besides, he wasn't reaching out and trying to listen to _all_ their feelings...he was just _peeking_, just a _tiny_ bit, just to make sure it was safe here. It wasn't naughty to just _peek_, was it? He was sure it wasn't. Besides, their minds _were _rather loud, and it was hard to _not_ hear _some _of their feelings. Maybe one of them would _invite _him to listen sometime, but for now he'd just peek a tiny little bit from time to time. Just to be sure it was safe. And to help him understand them, of course, since their voices sounded a bit muffled and peculiar.

They didn't _smell _like predators. Well, not _too _much, anyhow. They actually smelled a little nice, even though there was a trace of meat-eater in their scent. Their teeth weren't pointy and didn't look too terribly sharp...that _had_ to be a good thing. And though they looked far different from the creatures that had taken him away from the bad ship, the breath of the one that was carrying him out of the pretty blue room smelled the same as the one that had put the mask on him. He was the same one who had proclaimed himself _Taj djahl-nach_—the other man had called him Mao-Kim. Maybe they'd be Joined soon and he'd be able to listen to Mao-Kim _all_ the time. He'd _like_ that.

Lehrites Joined almost immediately after proclaiming _Taj_, but apparently Hoo-mins waited a while. He'd been taught that each species does things a little differently and waiting to Join was, it seemed, one of the differences between Lehrites and Hoo-mins.

He'd seen _pictures _of Hoo-mins, of course, just as he'd seen pictures of many other races when he'd been taught about them. And the stories, of course—they'd all heard _stories _about Hoo-mins, just like they'd heard stories about En-dor-me-ams and Tell-rights and King-ons and Naw-ki-sams. He'd even gotten a glimpse of a real live En-dor-me-am once, though only for a few seconds. _They _were _very _interesting, and not just because they were blue, and not just because he'd never seen a real one before. En-dor-me-ams could wiggle their horns! That was something he'd never learned about them from _any _of the stories. Someday he'd like to talk to an En-dor-me-am and learn how they wiggle their horns. He supposed it wasn't too much different than him wiggling his ears, but knowing for certain how they did it would be nice.

Of all the stories, though, he'd always liked the ones about Hoo-mins best. In the stories they sounded like strange, funny, mostly pleasant creatures. And they were even prettier in person than in the pictures he'd seen, even if they _didn't _have horns. This idea of special clothes for dangerous places, though...that was just...well..._silly_. They must have been joking with him, because if a place was dangerous you simply stayed away from it. _Everybody _knew _that_. He'd been taught that Hoo-mins sometimes liked to joke...

He'd been taught about Vul-cams, too...all the children learned from infancy that they had to stay away from Vul-cams because Lehrites had somehow made Vul-cams unhappy long ago, so now Vul-cams hated Lehrites. Making people unhappy was bad, and hurting people was bad, so if being around Lehrites hurt Vul-cams and made them unhappy then Lehrites had to just stay away from them. To avoid offending Vul-cams Lehrites didn't even teach their children anything about Vul-cam language, and they _always _taught at least a little about alien languages when they could. He'd only learned about the hand salute by accident while randomly reading through some files on the computer at school. He wasn't even certain that he'd done the salute properly, but it had seemed the polite thing to do. He'd hoped that, if he did it correctly, maybe she wouldn't hate him. Maybe it would even make her happy. And the Vul-cam _had_ seemed to approve. But still...

Though the Vul-cam's mind was quieter than the Hoo-mins he'd still heard the Vul-cam lady clearly, and it confused him. He'd been taught for a long time that Vul-cams _hated _Lehrites, but he didn't hear hate from her. Hate was a loud, sharp, painful, unmistakable thing, easily recognized even by babies. What he heard from her was loud, too, and though less painful it was equally unpleasant and very, very confusing.

After all, why would the Vul-cam lady be _scared _of him?


	8. Chapter 8 Sickbay

As a reminder, I mentioned in my notes for Chapter 1 that there was violence toward a child. Though it doesn't happen in this chapter, there will be details of some of the injuries the little guy sustained. Just wanted to offer fair warning: the aliens who kidnapped him were _not_ gentle.

Some of the little fella's thoughts will be revealed more directly—look for bracketed italics, and be forewarned that he doesn't have a full grasp on pronunciation (or syntax) yet. And remember the bit about listening in the previous chapter? Lehrites don't always listen with their _ears_...but Malcolm doesn't know that. Yet.

Okay...here's hoping I didn't leave any shuttlepod-sized gaps or glitches in this installment...

Chapter Eight: Sickbay

The few who witnessed the sight had enough sense of self-preservation to say nothing as a tousle-headed Lt. Reed, clad only in a Starfleet-issue bathrobe and blue skivvies, strode barefoot down the corridor toward Sickbay carrying the alien child.

Before leaving Decon Malcolm had hurriedly tossed on the robe, then used the blanket to fashion a makeshift garment to defend the boy's modesty as well as help keep the tot warm. His efforts had turned off looking vaguely togalike but the lieutenant was less concerned with appearance and more with function, and the child genuinely seemed to like it judging from the huge grin that had plastered itself on his little face. Then, still beaming, the boy slipped the strap of his pouch over his head and raised his arms for Malcolm to pick him up, twining both arms firmly around Malcolm's neck and placing his legs around either side of the man's torso. With one arm wrapped across the tot's back and the other under the tiny derriere a robed, unshod Reed had set out for his destination.

It hadn't taken long for the tyke to use one hand to begin a further exploration of the lieutenant's face and head. He quickly became intrigued by Malcolm's ears, fingers of his left hand delicately probing and tracing every millimeter of the man's right ear while Malcolm struggled mightily to keep his composure. The boy had inadvertently discovered one of the lieutenant's best-kept secrets: his ears were more than a bit ticklish.

When he felt he could bear it no longer—and had insured that there were no others in the corridor—Malcolm stopped and looked the child in the eyes, voice gentle as he spoke. "See here…I'm quite flattered that you find my ear so fascinating, but I _really_ must ask you to _please _stop doing that." Innocent, long-lashed eyes blinked back at him and elongated slender ears perked forward as the small, delicate fingers froze in place on his ear. Several heartbeats passed before the fingers withdrew from Malcolm's ear and began rubbing slowly up and down the length of his nose. The man sighed: he'd take what he could get. "Thank you. That's much better." The duo continued on their way, curious fingers stroking Malcolm's nose a bit more before probing his lips, jaw line, and throat, his Adam's apple proving to be at least as intriguing as his ear had been.

As they approached the main doors to Sickbay the boy's attention shifted. Leaning to the side he looked down at Malcolm's feet, and his eyes went wide. Squirming in the lieutenant's arms the boy began gesturing urgently at the floor as Reed stopped walking, struggling to keep his grip on the child. Urgent but faint squeaks emanated from his lively burden, the gestures becoming more animated with each passing second.

"It's all right," Malcolm tried to calm the child, voice strained by the struggle. "I'm not going to drop you, I promise. But you _have _to stop…wriggling about." The boy was oblivious to the man's plea, seemingly desperate to get down. Malcolm almost lost his hold, then lost his patience. "Stop that!" he snapped, instantly regretting it as the boy froze in his arms, frightened eyes staring at him and filling with tears as the slender ears drooping dejectedly alongside the little face. _Oh...bloody hell._

"Hear now," Malcolm said softly, "it's all right. I'm not angry with you, but you gave me a bit of a fright. With all that wiggling about I almost dropped you. If _that _happened you might have been injured, or even re-injured that foot of yours," he added, motioning with his head toward the bandaged hoof. "We've almost reached Sickbay, so you just need to hold still for a bit longer, all right?" The boy sniffled as he seemed to weigh the man's words—or perhaps his mood—before planting his left thumb firmly in his mouth and tugging his right ear with his free hand.

"I'm sorry I shouted," Reed continued, sick at heart. "I didn't mean to frighten you. Forgive me?" Golden eyes regarded him cautiously, horizontal pupils gradually shrinking back to their normal size. Malcolm, meanwhile, was desperate to secure the boy's forgiveness before Trip—or anyone else—showed up to witness the aftermath of his blunder. The boy stared unblinking at him for what seemed a lifetime, thumb still firmly ensconced in his mouth and right hand still tugging nervously at his ear.

"I'm _truly _sorry to have frightened you. I can't promise that I'll never shout again, but you have my word of honor that I'm not going to harm you. You really _are _safe here," Malcolm tried to reassure the tot, lifting his hand from the boy's back to give the small face a light, comforting stroke for good measure. Relief washed over him as the golden eyes at last blinked and twinkled happily back at him. Reed gave the fuzzy cheek another tender rub and the boy ceased his ear tugging to lay his hand on the man's cheek.

"I'd _heard _that Lehrites are usually very quick to forgive," came the doctor's voice from the doorway to Sickbay. "That piece of information seems to have been correct, hmm?"

A chagrined lieutenant slowly turned to face the grinning Denobulan. "Phlox...I was just...we just had a little, um, misunderstanding," Malcolm stumbled over an explanation. "He thought I was going to drop him, and I fear I got a bit flustered..."

The doctor waved a dismissive hand. "No need to explain, Lieutenant. I _do _have children, you know," he reminded him before motioning him forward. "They do sometimes give adults reason to speak rather loudly, but I think you handled the situation quite well for a novice. Come along, let's have a look at him."

As they entered Sickbay Malcolm risked a glance at the still-grinning Denobulan. "How long have you been standing there, anyhow?" Reed asked. The Denobulan's smile grew wider in silent reply, making Malcolm's heart sink. If that grin was any indication, the doctor had witnessed the entire horrid event. "Um...Doctor? You're not going to mention what happened to anyone...are you?"

Phlox chuckled. "You needn't concern yourself, Lieutenant. I believe it would be acceptable to extend doctor/patient confidentiality to cover this particular situation. Now," he instructed, patting the imaging chamber's exam table, "set him down here. Hello, young man," he addressed the child, smiling warmly. "I am Doctor Phlox, and I'm going to take excellent care of you, have no fear." The boy looked up at him and smiled politely but then cast his gaze at the floor by Malcolm's feet. The men exchanged puzzled looks.

"That's what he did in the corridor," Malcolm told Phlox. "He looked down at the floor and started struggling to get down. I suspect he thought he was up too high and believed I was going to drop him."

"Most peculiar—nothing I've read about them indicates that Lehrites are afraid of heights. Quite the opposite, in fact. They are reputed to be skilled and rather exuberant climbers." The Denobulan studied his patient a moment then motioned to the nearby counter. "Would you please bring me that scanner, Lieutenant?" The boy's eyes followed Malcolm's feet as the man walked away and when Reed turned to come back the child gasped, pointing excitedly at the lieutenant's bare feet. Phlox watched this with growing interest, at last chuckling as Malcolm looked at where the boy was pointing.

"What's wrong?" Reed asked before looking up at Phlox. "I'm not sure what you find so amusing, Doctor. I chose to do without slippers for the same reason I chose to simply put on a bathrobe rather than take the extra time to get dressed—I was trying to get the boy here a little more quickly. It isn't as though you've never seen a person's feet before."

"Well, yes," Phlox agreed, still snickering, "I _have _seen human feet before, but I suspect our little friend here has _not_. And considering how much different your foot structure is from his, I would imagine he finds your feet to be extremely interesting. They are a highly inquisitive people, you know."

Malcolm self-consciously wiggled his toes, drawing enthusiastic hand-clapping from the Lehrite. He stared at the boy a few seconds before he chuckled, too. "So...in the corridor, when I thought he was afraid of being dropped...you're saying he wanted to look at my _feet_?" he asked as he crossed the room and handed the scanner to Phlox. The boy's eyes remained fixed on his toes the entire time.

"So it would seem," Phlox said as he began taking preliminary scans of the child. The Lehrite blissfully ignored the doctor, focusing wholly on Malcolm's feet and clapping gleefully with every movement of the lieutenant's toes.

Reed perched on the table alongside the boy, holding his legs out in front of him so the child could get a better look. "Like those, do you?" he asked, looking at his own feet and giving his toes another wiggle. The Lehrite clapped again before stretching his own legs out to begin a side-by-side comparison. He gestured to Malcolm's feet, held up a hand and wiggled his little fingers, then pointed again to the man's feet.

Reed smiled at the questioning look the boy was giving him. "They are called _toes_," he informed the lad, flexing the appendages for emphasis. Clapping with delight the boy looked back up at him, beaming. He then motioned to his own feet, flexing the uninjured one at the ankle before looking at Malcolm, wriggling his fingers again and shrugging. "Oh...I see," Reed replied after a few seconds. "You can't wiggle your toes." It sounded absurd as soon as he said it: the boy had no toes _to_ wiggle. The tot seemed to take it in stride, though, merely nodding a confirmation before motioning for the man to again wiggle _his_ toes. Malcolm readily complied, eager to keep the child both content and distracted from the doctor's examination. This time, though, after the initial happy clapping the boy became contemplative, nose scrunching up as he scratched thoughtfully behind his ear.

Phlox noticed the concerned look on Reed's face. "I believe I know what's troubling him," the doctor offered as he completed his scan. "You've done something to entertain him and he's not certain how to reciprocate."

"He doesn't _need_ to reciprocate. Good lord, all I did was wriggle my toes. I owed him at least that much in light of what happened in the corridor."

The doctor smiled. "As I understand it, Lehrites are firm believers in quid pro quo when it comes to repaying a kindness. It would be considered rude for him to fail to reimburse you in some manner." The men watched as the boy continued staring at Reed's feet until at last the tot patted urgently on Malcolm's knee and gestured to be helped down from the table. Standing, Reed complied with the request. Phlox moved to help as well and the boy was soon standing on one leg, holding the edge of the exam table with one hand, his back to the men. Carefully lifting the section of blanket covering his bottom and bending over slightly the boy made sure his tail was showing before giving the little appendage a vigorous shake.

Laughing, Malcolm hoisted the smiling Lehrite back onto the table. "I think that makes us even," he chuckled to the tot, "though I hope you're not planning on mooning too many other crew members." Seeing the puzzled look on the doctor's face he tried to explain. "When you intentionally expose your buttocks to someone, it's called 'mooning'. Some do it as a prank, and some use it as a way to insult someone they dislike or disagree with. I must say, though, I've never seen it used as a method of payment before today."

"Well, you must admit," Phlox chortled as Sickbay's doors opened to admit Commander Tucker, "he did wiggle something which you cannot, much as you did for him. Now, I'd like to get him into the imaging chamber and get a better look at his injuries." The doctor made a mental note to look into this mooning thing more thoroughly. Humans had such a wide array of quaint, fascinating tribal rituals and customs he'd yet to learn about, and this certainly sounded like one that warranted further study.

"What did he wiggle?" the engineer asked as he strode over to the exam table, adjusting the collar of his uniform. "What did I miss?"

Malcolm shook his head with a smile. "Just a little quid pro quo. I'll fill you in later. Right now," he said to the boy, gently easing the little one's upper body down onto the table, "you have to lie back and relax." The tot began to comply but then saw the cavernous hole in the wall behind him and wrapped his arms around the lieutenant's neck, obviously frightened by this new development.

"See here," Malcolm objected gently, "there's no need for that. It's just the imaging chamber—it's quite painless." A single pained whimper made the boy's doubts abundantly clear. As Reed silently debated physically prying the lad loose he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I got an idea, Mal," Trip offered. "Pick 'im up." Not that Malcolm had much choice in that: the tyke had all but welded himself to the lieutenant, so as Reed stepped away from the exam table the boy came with him.

Trip patted the Lehrite's shoulder to get his attention. "Hey there little fella, just watch me, okay? It's easy, an' Malcolm's right—it won't hurt a bit." Stretching out on the table, Trip nodded to the doctor. "Go ahead, Doc." Phlox activated the chamber and the engineer, smiling at the boy the whole time, slid into the hole.

The Lehrite buried his head against Malcolm's shoulder and sobbed as the wall closed after the man, but Reed tenderly cupped the child's chin in his hand and lifted the little head, motioning to the monitor. "It's all right," he assured the boy as he pointed at the readouts. "See there? He's perfectly fine. It should only be a minute or so, and then he'll be back out here with us."

Easing his grip on Malcolm the snuffling tot seemed dubious at first but then leaned toward the display, eyes narrowing in concentration and head cocking to one side as he studied the image. He started looking from the readout to the chamber door then back again, eyes now wide open and ears pitching forward in curiosity. As he shifted his gaze to Phlox and Malcolm the men both smiled reassuringly at him, but he still appeared unsure about the whole thing, absently stroking the pouch still hanging around his neck.

Deactivating the chamber after a minute Phlox moved to the table and made a show of helping the grinning engineer get up. "There...you see?" the doctor said. "The commander is absolutely fine. Your turn now, hmm?" The boy's ears drooped again as he looked to Malcolm for a reprieve and got none.

"The doctor's right," Reed told him matter-of-factly, gently placing him back on the exam table. "You've seen how it works, and you know it won't hurt you."

"Yeah," Trip added, "there's nothin' to it, little guy. You'll be finished in no time. Nothin' ta worry about."

Malcolm could see in the boy's eyes that he was still nervous. The lieutenant knew how his _father _would have handled the situation if this were one of the Reed children—he'd have simply plunked them down and expected them to...well...be _Reeds_. None of this mollycoddling nonsense for _his _brood, no sir. Stuart Reed would be appalled that his son was showing so much tolerance for a child's groundless fears. Malcolm smiled to himself at the thought as he sat on the table next to the Lehrite and turned to face the apprehensive tyke. _He_, after all, was _not_ his father. And in this particular area prayed that he would never be anything _like_ his father.

He cradled the fuzzy face in his hands and bent close, his voice velvet as he spoke. "I want you to listen to me, all right? _Really_ listen. Can you do that?" The boy nodded in reply, his expression changing from anxiousness to something Malcolm couldn't quite identify. Blissful relief, or perhaps happy anticipation? Not that it mattered, he supposed. Reed was just thankful that the tot was paying attention and wasn't scared witless. Small, warm hands mimicked his own, delicately embracing his face and pulling him slightly closer. The youngster's guileless eyes fixed on his, their golden hue shimmering like tiger's eye gems. _A fellow could get lost in those eyes_, Malcolm thought.

"Are you listening?" Another slow nod came in reply, adoration now clear on the child's face. "Good lad. Now, you have absolutely _nothing_ to worry about. It's a simple procedure, and I'll be right here waiting for you when you come out of the chamber. It absolutely will not hurt you. It's perfectly—"

Their foreheads touched, and Malcolm felt the room fade away for an instant. A pleasant tingling sensation went through him, and then the room came slowly back into focus as the boy's hands slid away from his face.

"—safe," he finished in a hushed, confused voice. Unsure what had happened, he looked up into the concerned faces of Phlox, Trip, and Captain Archer. That in itself made him immediately uneasy: he had no recollection of the captain entering the room.

"Lieutenant...how are you feeling?" the doctor hesitantly asked as he scanned Reed's head.

Disoriented, Malcolm considered his answer carefully. "I'm...not entirely certain," he finally decided. "A bit foggy, to be quite honest. Why? What's happened?"

"That's what I'm trying to determine," Phlox answered. "What do you remember?"

Reed had to think about that for a moment. "I was reassuring our young friend, here, that the imaging chamber wouldn't hurt him. We...bumped heads, I believe, and things got a little...fuzzy. It only lasted a second or two, though." The uneasy looks that the three men exchanged didn't exactly set the lieutenant's mind at ease. "Would someone kindly tell me what's going on?"

Captain Archer finally broke the silence. "Malcolm...the two of you 'bumped heads' just as I entered Sickbay, but it wasn't for a second or two. We tried for almost a full minute to get a response out of you."

"But that's not possible," Malcolm objected as he stood. "It was only a few seconds. At least, it only _seemed _to last that long." He looked down at the boy, seeking an answer there. The tot merely sat there, eyes closed, looking cherubic and blissful.

Reed laid an arm on the Lehrite's shoulder. "D'von," he said gently, "do you know what just happened?" The hairy angelic face turned slowly upward, eyes sliding open at a leisurely pace. He gave a dazed smile before his eyelids grew heavy and slid shut again. Stupefied grin still on his face, he laid back and stretched out on the exam table.

Malcolm closed his eyes to gather his thoughts, and several unbidden images flashed through his head: picking the boy up on the alien ship, cradling the tiny body in Decon, carrying him through the corridors of Enterprise. A single word echoed in his mind throughout the uninvited mental slideshow: _{safe.}_

"Uh...Malcolm?" Trip's concerned voice crept through the fog. "You okay?"

Reed grudgingly opened his eyes and stifled the impulse to blurt out that he was fine. "I think so, yes," he finally managed. "Just...rather tired, and worried about D'von. Sorry."

"You called him D'von," Archer said as Malcolm rose from the exam table. "Is that his name?"

"Hm? What? Oh...yes," the lieutenant answered distractedly, unable to look away from the contented little person on the table. "Doctor...are you ready to start the scans yet?" Phlox nodded wordlessly, no longer entirely convinced that he would be scanning the correct patient, and Malcolm stroked the boy's cheek. Eyes still closed, D'von smiled.

"Now you just stay still in there, all right? You'll be done in no time," he told D'von. "I'll be right here waiting for you. Understand?" He got a tiny nod in reply and stepped back from the table, sighing as it slid into the chamber.

_{safe. safe. safe.}_

"Malcolm," Jon said, getting no response. Looking to Trip and Phlox, Archer cleared his throat and spoke louder. "Malcolm...can you hear me?" he asked. The lieutenant nodded absently then as if suddenly slapped awake turned to face his CO.

"Yes sir. I apologize, sir, I...seem to be having a little trouble focusing at the moment. You were saying?"

More concerned looks flashed back and forth between the doctor, engineer, and captain before Archer patiently continued. "You said his name is D'von," he stated simply.

Malcolm nodded. "Yes sir."

"How do you _know_ that, Lieutenant?"

Reed started to answer, stopped to puzzle over it a moment, then at last snapped to attention and answered. "He told me, sir."

Captain Archer shot another look at Phlox and Trip before continuing. "Relax, Malcolm," Jon sighed. "When did he tell you his name?"

"Just now, sir, when we were—" Malcolm's voice faded as he realized what he'd been about to say. "When we were talking to each other," he finally finished, voice softened by the absurdity of the statement.

"Mal," Trip gently reminded him, "the little fella hasn't said a word since we found 'im. Some squeaks and squeals, and one really effective scream in Decon that I'm sure you remember, but that's it." Tucker expected an explosive reply to his having pointed out the obvious, but the Armory Officer was unnaturally subdued.

"I know," Reed whispered. "All the same...I _heard_ him." He looked to the doctor, hoping to find confirmation that he hadn't gone mad, but the expression on Phlox's face didn't help.

"I wish I had an explanation, gentlemen, but I don't. The scans I took don't show anything _radically _abnormal in the lieutenant's brain activity, but something definitely happened when their heads touched. I just don't have enough information yet to determine exactly _what_ happened."

"You said there wasn't anything _radically _abnormal," Malcolm said worriedly. "But you found _something_ out of the norm, didn't you?"

Phlox tipped his head in a partial shrug. "There are some minor variations in your brain wave activity, yes."

"How serious are these _variations_?" Archer asked.

The Denobulan shook his head. "I'm not certain yet, but they don't appear to be life-threatening. Aside from the lieutenant's slight disorientation he seems to have suffered no ill effects from...whatever it was." Phlox turned his attention to the imaging chamber's display as Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"I do appreciate the concern, sirs, but I believe the doctor is correct." He looked at Archer and Tucker. "I'm a little muddleheaded at present, and a bit tired, but aside from that I feel fine...more or less. Right now I'm far more concerned with D'von's condition, so can we please get him tended to first? I'm certain Phlox will sort out my minor variations in due course. Is it safe to assume," he asked, turning to the medical officer, "that I will be a guest of Sickbay for the evening?"

With a knowing smile and a glance at the lieutenant, Phlox nodded. "Oh absolutely, Lt. Reed. Make yourself comfortable." As the doctor returned his attention to D'von's readings Malcolm began pacing like an expectant father, stopping only when Trip put a restraining arm on his shoulder.

"Yer makin' a rut in the deck plating, Malcolm," the engineer said in a hushed voice.

Reed suppressed a chuckle and both men smiled, but Malcolm grew serious as he noticed Archer at the comm. "What's the captain doing?" he asked quietly.

"Callin' T'Pol. Outdated or not, the Vulcan Database might have some information that'll be helpful. He's gonna have her go over it an' see what she can find."

Malcolm nodded, glanced at the still-closed imaging chamber, and sighed. "It didn't hurt," he said. Noting the puzzled look on Trip's face he explained, "Whatever happened when D'von and I bumped heads. It wasn't painful. And it only felt as though a second or two passed. You're sure it was longer?"

Trip nodded. "Phlox timed it. Just over fifty-four seconds. Felt like forever. Doc didn't think pullin' ya apart would be a good idea, and biosigns were stable on both of ya, so we just...waited. It was weird, though," he added, "after a couple seconds yer biosigns kinda...synchronized."

Malcolm shook his head. "I don't follow."

"Your respiration, heart rate, blood pressure...they synchronized with each other. His dropped a little, yours went up a little, an' they...met in the middle. Phlox said he's never seen anything like it."

"He's not the only one." The men fell silent for a moment, Malcolm staring at the imaging chamber and Trip staring at Malcolm until the silence became too much to bear.

"He talked to ya?" Trip asked at last.

"Hmm? Sorry," Reed apologized, tearing his gaze from the wall to his friend. "You know, I'm not sure. I mean, I _know_ he didn't _talk_ to me, and yet..." He struggled to remember exactly what _had_ happened but had to admit defeat. "It's like grasping at phantoms. _Some_thing happened in that fifty-four seconds but I can't for the life of me recollect what, and the more I try the less I remember. Obviously he didn't _speak_, but I feel as though he _did_. And he somehow told me his name, I know he did. How _else _would I know it?" One hand tiredly rubbing the back of his neck, Malcolm watched the doctor, whose attention was wholly on the imaging chamber's readout.

The Denobulan's features had darkened considerably. "Though I don't yet know what happened between the lieutenant and D'von I'm afraid there is a very good reason why this child hasn't spoken," he announced grimly. The men drew close as the doctor pointed to the boy's throat on the display. "His vocal cords have been damaged."

"Yeah," Trip offered, "Malcolm noticed in Decon that the poor little guy had a boo-boo on his throat."

"Some sort of accident?" Archer asked.

The frowning doctor shook his head. "They appear to have been intentionally cut."

"Ya mean, surgically?" Trip asked, incredulous.

Again Phlox shook his head. "I would be hard-pressed to call such butchery _surgical _in nature, Mr. Tucker. The edges of the incision are jagged. A surgical implement would have cut much more cleanly. There is no indication that I can see of any attempt at post-surgical care, not even any sign that the incision was adequately sutured afterward. And I cannot fathom _any_ reason for such an act other than to simply rob him of the ability to speak—there would certainly be no _medical_ reason that I am aware of. I would imagine that any sound he _is_ capable of making is at least somewhat painful for him to produce."

Drawing their attention to the hoof, the doctor continued. "The puncture wound on the bottom of his hoof also appears to have been intentionally inflicted, probably with a knife of some sort. If he had simply _stepped_ on something sharp enough to enter his foot it is highly unlikely that he would have kept stepping until it had gone in this far. I know _I_ certainly wouldn't have."

"What did they do to his horn?" Malcolm asked, doubting that he wanted to know the answer.

Phlox took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to steady himself before continuing. "A Lehrite's horns are designed to withstand a great deal of force, as are their skulls. You can see here," he said, pointing out several areas on the screen, "that there are several microfractures along the horn's base, as well as those which are visible without the use of scanners. There are several areas on the skull which also show signs of microfractures. Though these aren't life-threatening injuries for him they _are_ severe, and could not have been produced by a mere fall or by bumping into something. Significant force would have been required to do this much damage to such dense bone structure, and there had to have been multiple blows judging from these readings. If he were human, a _single _blow with this much force would have been fatal."

Malcolm felt the blood drain from his head and leaned a hand on the wall for support. Trip's hands seized his shoulders as Jon brought a chair.

Reed shook his head as the men sat him down. "I'm sorry, sirs, I'm not...I'm not quite sure what happened. I just felt—"

"Don't worry about it," Captain Archer interrupted, his voice strained. Embarrassed by his moment of light-headedness, the lieutenant glanced at his superiors to find their faces uncharacteristically pale as well.

"That poor little fella," Trip at last managed. "An' here I'd hoped them rippin' out his earring was the worst of it. How could anybody _do _this kinda stuff to him?" Malcolm shook his head, closing his eyes against the thought of it.

Behind his eyelids he saw blue. Soft, glowing blue, and trusting golden eyes staring at him as the sound of his own slightly muffled voice floated through his head. _Safe. You're safe now. _He felt himself grow calm and relaxed, and at last opened his eyes to find Trip staring down at him.

"Feelin' a little better?" Not trusting his voice Malcolm nodded, standing as the exam table slid out of the imaging chamber. D'von appeared to be sleeping but his eyes opened as Reed laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Welcome back," Malcolm greeted him softly, taking hold of the boy's hand. "You see there? That took hardly any time at all. Now," he explained, "Dr. Phlox has found some injuries that need tending, like that foot of yours. So you need to listen to him and do as he says, all right?"

Trip couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Look who's tellin' the little guy ta follow doctor's orders," he murmured humorously. D'von smiled at the engineer's comment, stroking Malcolm's hand.

Phlox approached with a hypospray. "Hello again, D'von. This is just a little something that will make you sleep for a while, so I can treat your injuries without causing you any discomfort. If you'll just stay still a moment—" As Phlox reached toward him D'von sat up in a panic and wrapped his arms around Malcolm. The doctor stepped back, startled by the child's reaction, and Malcolm looked into D'von's eyes.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong? Phlox won't hurt you, you know. He's trying to _help _you."

_{End-gree wiv me. End-gree hurts. Why end-gree wiv me?}_

Lt. Reed gave Phlox a puzzled look, and for a fleeting instant could feel it, too. "He doesn't know why you're angry with him."

Bewildered, Phlox looked to Archer and Tucker before studying both the boy and the lieutenant. "I assure you," he finally objected, "I'm not the least bit angry with him."

Malcolm met the doctor's gaze, looking at the Denobulan as if seeing him for the first time. There was no accusation in Reed's eyes, nor in his voice as he spoke. Indeed, he sounded as perplexed as the doctor looked. "You're angry with _someone_," the lieutenant stated. "D'von thinks it's him."

Phlox scrutinized the Lehrite until at last an answer dawned on him. Pocketing the hypospray he wheeled a chair over to the exam table and sat in front of D'von. "My dear child," he said tenderly, "I am _so_ sorry. After telling these people about your empathic ability I forgot about it myself. You are quite correct," he admitted, casting a concerned look at Malcolm before fixing his eyes back on his patient. "I _am_ angry. Very angry, in fact...but not at you. I am angry at the people who injured you, and I sincerely apologize for exposing you to that anger."

D'von thoughtfully studied the Denobulan's face. It took several seconds for the fear to leave the Lehrite's eyes. _{Not end-gree wiv me? Ho-kay good.} _The boy slowly loosed his grip on Malcolm's arm, tentatively reaching for the doctor's hand but stopping short. _{No-blans dunnint like touches.} _Phlox smiled at the boy and bridged the gap, briefly holding D'von's hand before releasing it and retrieving the hypospray from his pocket.

D'von smiled back, head tipping to one side. He then looked at Malcolm. _{Liddle touches ho-kay maybe sometimes? No-blans are __very__ confoozing.}_

Reed nodded in agreement, opting to remain silent rather than acknowledge in front of the others exactly how many of the lad's thoughts he was apparently privy to. Part of him felt very off-kilter, since he didn't know when one of D'von's thoughts would pop up nor how clear the thought would be. And knowing what the doctor had been feeling had been quite disconcerting, even though the sensation had passed in less than a second.

In a tiny corner of his mind, though, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to have the boy's thoughts flitting in and out. If he admitted that to the others they would doubtless think him mad; the look he'd gotten from the doctor a few moments ago confirmed that much for him. He felt sure that fully revealing this new development would also divert Phlox from caring for D'von, so for now he would keep still about it. Once the lad was tended to he'd make a clean breast of it with the Denobulan.

Besides, he thought, whatever connection had been formed wouldn't likely be permanent. It would presumably fade after a while and everything would be back to normal. And in the meantime he'd be able to at least know the boy's wants and needs without having to guess at the meaning of various hand gestures and such. It didn't appear to him that there were any great drawbacks to the situation, except perhaps the potential for being easily distracted. _And I certainly possess enough control over my own mind to compensate for that,_ Malcolm told himself as he fought to concentrate on the doctor's words to D'von.

"Now as I said," Phlox addressed the child, again holding up the hypospray, "This will make you sleep so I can tend your injuries. When you wake up you'll be in one of those beds over there." The doctor motioned to the row of beds beyond the exam table. "Lt. Reed will be close by, and I certainly won't be very far away. Do you understand?" D'von nodded but as the doctor moved to give him the shot the boy held up a hand to stop him. The Lehrite pointed to the tear in his left ear, a questioning look in his eyes.

"He has an earring," Trip told the doctor. "It's in his bag right now."

"Ah, I see," Phlox nodded with a fatherly smile. "Yes, that is one of the injuries I'll be mending for you. Once the tissue has healed we'll see about putting your earring back in its proper place. Now, is there anything else?" D'von thought about it a moment before stretching out on the exam table and taking hold of Malcolm's hand. Tipping his head back, the child offered the doctor easy access to his throat.

Pride swelled within the Armory Officer at the tot's display of courage. "There's a good lad," he encouraged as Phlox administered the shot. D'von's eyelids flickered then slid shut, and Malcolm realized a drawback he hadn't previously considered as he felt himself losing consciousness as well.


	9. Chapter 9 Joined

Sorry for the delay, folks. Hope I've made it worth the wait. Special thanks to Serit, Hunter of Glitches, for encouragement and assistance on dialogue polishing—hope I'm getting better at it!

D'von's speech pattern is, hopefully, not too difficult to understand. It is a sort of cross between the way I've heard some toddlers express themselves, the way I envision an alien goat-child unfamiliar with English muddling through, far too much time spent at the LOLcats website, and one other thing that I can't mention right now without spoiling a future chapter. Don't worry, though—with Malcolm as a role model, D'von's English can only get better!

The beginning of an explanation of Joining is coming up, and we begin to scratch the surface of why Vulcans and Lehrites don't get on so well...

Chapter 9: Joined

The worst part, Malcolm decided as he lay on the biobed, was finding out that Captain Archer had been the one to catch him when he'd almost crashed to the floor. It was damned embarrassing having to have your CO catch you, and doubly so when you were clad only in your underwear and a bathrobe. Most undignified and decidedly un-Reed-like.

He'd been told that he had only blacked out for a minute, but that had been sufficient time for them to plunk him on a bed, toss a blanket over him, and draw the curtain, cutting him off from the rest of the room. He could hear them talking, and thought he could pick out T'Pol's voice as well. Which meant they were in all likelihood discussing his abnormal brain waves, among other things. _Damn it, they should be taking care of D'von, not fretting about my bloody brain wave activity_, he thought.

It was then he realized that he could not feel even the vaguest hint of the child's thoughts. Sitting up he looked around, but the other two beds were empty. There was an instant of disoriented panic until it dawned on him that D'von was still sedated. Almost as an afterthought it occurred to him that in sedating the boy Phlox had probably succeeded in severing whatever connection there had been. It certainly felt that way to him: the fog that had taken over his brain was gone now, and he felt more alert than he had in ages. Aside from a rapidly-fading headache he felt fine. And, since he no longer felt or heard the child's mind within his own, his brain wave patterns must surely be back to normal. If that was the case, he reasoned, there was no longer any need of him lazing about in _here_. Time to go.

Just as Reed swung his legs over the edge of the bed Trip pulled the curtain aside and peeked in. "Told 'em it wouldn't be too long before you'd try ta make a break for it," the engineer joked quietly, drawing a small chuckle from his friend. "Figured I'd better check an' make sure you weren't sneakin' out through the ventilation system or somethin'."

"Ah, the ventilation system...excellent idea," Malcolm said jokingly. "I _had_ intended to simply make a dash for the door, but I'll keep your suggestion in mind as a backup plan. You realize, though, that you've confirmed my suspicions—you've all been sitting around out there gossiping about me behind my back."

Trip returned the smile as he approached the bed. "Well, gossipin' aboutcha's no fun unless it's behind yer back," he joked, then grew somber. "Seriously, Malcolm...you feelin' okay?"

Reed nodded. "Yes. I think Phlox managed to break whatever connection there was when he sedated D'von. I'm feeling quite clear-headed and eager to get out of here. Though I suppose," he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "Phlox is watching the exits."

"Good guess, but not quite. Guarding the exits is my job fer right now, 'cuz Phlox is takin' care of D'von."

Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief as he laid back on the bed. "I'm glad the doctor's concentrating on the tyke—I was worried that what happened with me would distract him from that."

Trip chuckled. "Ah don't think you've gotta worry about Phlox neglectin' the little guy. He's read a lot about Lehrites but he's never gotten a chance to treat one before, so he's eager to do a good job. He said the only thing that's really worryin' him is that he's never treated a fractured horn before an' he's not a hundred percent sure how to go about it. Doc's kinda worried that if it doesn't go well, he might have to amputate it. It would grow back," he hastened to add, seeing the horrified look on Malcolm's face, "but it would always look different from the other horn. Smaller, an' maybe even a little different in texture and color. So he wants to avoid doin' that unless there's no other choice. Apparently their horns are _real _important to them, an' the doc doesn't want D'von to hafta grow one back.

"Anyhow," Trip continued, "Phlox said he'd be able to take care of the hoof and vocal cords easy enough, so he's doin' those first. When D'von wakes up we'll have to let him know that he won't be able to talk for a couple more days, to give his throat a chance to heal properly."

Malcolm nodded, stifling a yawn. "How's your hand? Nothing broken, I trust?"

"Nah...it's fine," Trip said, holding up his bruised left hand and flexing his fingers. "Just kinda sore. How 'bout yer midsection? You took a pretty solid kick to the bread basket."

"Same as your hand—bruised but not broken. I _am _grateful that he didn't aim much lower, though," he joked. Silence reigned for a time, until Malcolm finally broached the subject preying on both men's minds. "I thought I heard Subcommander T'Pol's voice out there earlier—has she been able to help shed any light on what happened to me?"

Trip shifted uneasily, pulling up a chair and sitting next to the bed. "She and Phlox have their theories, but they're not really sure. Seems that these Lehrites do this thing with each other called Joining, and it lets 'em share their emotions with each other. Thing is, Phlox doesn't really think this Joining thing would work with a non-Lehrite. An' they _both _think that only adult Lehrites kin even do it. So we really don't seem ta be any closer to an answer right now. Phlox has T'Pol goin' over all the information he's got to make sure he didn't miss anything, plus she's re-checking the Vulcan Database."

Sliding up closer to the bed Trip continued, his voice almost conspiratorial. "Y'know, Mal...I think there's somethin' goin' on with the subcommander as far as this whole Lehrite thing. I know she said it was just a matter of the smell when we were in Decon, but somethin's just...not right with her. I can't help but feel like she knows somethin' about these Lehrites that she's not tellin' us about. She's definitely uncomfortable talkin' about them."

"And you really think if there was an imminent threat to the crew she'd just _neglect _to mention it to the captain?" Malcolm asked. "That's rather doubtful. Besides, from the way Phlox describes them, these Lehrites are a peaceful, friendly, outgoing sort. And D'von is hardly what I'd deem a danger to the ship. What about them could possibly make a Vulcan uncomfortable?"

"Besides them being a peaceful, friendly, outgoing sort?" Trip joked. "Ahh, yer prob'ly right. I mean, who can tell with a Vulcan, anyhow, right? I think Porthos still creeps her out, and they don't come much more inoffensive than him."

Seeing his friend fight to stifle another yawn, the engineer rose. "Better get some sleep, Malcolm," he advised. "I'll check back a little later an' see how things are goin'."

Malcolm nodded. "Thanks, Trip. You'll tell me if you hear any news about D'von, right?"

"You'll be the first to know," Tucker promised before disappearing behind the privacy curtain.

Stretching, Malcolm gave a full yawn before snugging the blanket up under his chin and closing his eyes. Within a minute he'd fallen asleep.

_{Hai!}_

He was once again surrounded by blue and felt the same pleasant tingling he'd felt before, when his head had touched D'von's. Not knowing where he was should have been disconcerting but there was something familiar and comforting about the glowing blueness. The boy's cheerful voice came again, a slight nasal quality to it, and a tiny bit muffled. Malcolm felt as though he had small bits of cotton stuck in his ears as he listened.

_{Sed hai. Post-ta say hai backs.}_

The child was sitting on the floor, looking up expectantly.

Malcolm felt himself reply as he sat in front of the boy. _Hello. What_'_s your name?_

_{I_'_m D'von. An' you ams Mao-Kim, right?}_

_Malcolm,_ the lieutenant tried to correct him. _Yes...my name is Malcolm._

_{Is what I sed. Mao-Kim. Is safe here, right?}_

_Yes. You're on our ship, and you're absolutely safe here. _

_{Really, really, __really__ safe?}_

Reed felt himself sigh. _We aren't going to hurt you, D'von. We want to help you._ Images once again flashed through his mind of caring for the boy; bathing and brushing him, singing to him, holding him. A feeling of absolute safety and well-being settled over him like a thick, comfortable blanket.

The goatish face beamed at him, ears happily pitching upward. _{Safe. Ho-kay good. You ams Hoo-min, right?} _Malcolm nodded wordlessly.

_{Never mets Hoo-mins afore. Is nice...priddy. Very fren-lee. But where ams ress of your head?}_

_The rest of my head?_ He suddenly saw himself from the boy's viewpoint, on the alien ship, opening the faceplate of his helmet. He laughed aloud. _I told you, I was wearing a helmet._ D'von gave him a doubtful look. _It's part of my EV suit._

The boy still seemed unconvinced and quickly changed the subject. _{Dinnint know Hoo-mins has finners on dare hooves.}_

_Finners on our?...oh...those are called toes, not fingers. And we don't have hooves, we have feet._

_{Toe-finners on hoo-feets. Ho-kay good. But still dunnint know where ams ress of your head...}_

Malcolm felt the scene slipping away and tried to hold on, certain that he'd been about to discover something important, but the blue faded and his eyes slowly opened. He found himself staring at the doctor's concerned features.

"That was a rather short nap, Lieutenant," Phlox observed. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, actually," he replied, slowly sitting up . "Sedating D'von must have interrupted whatever was going on—I feel fine now. I don't suppose I could just head back to my quarters now, could I?"

The doctor shone a tolerant smile at him. "No, you most certainly may not. You'll be staying overnight for observation, so I've brought you a pair of pajamas." Phlox handed the folded garments to the lieutenant.

Reed gave a resigned sigh, setting the clothes on the foot of the bed. "Thank you for the pajamas. How's D'von getting along? Have you finished treating him?"

"Oh goodness, no. I've started him on intravenous fluids and a nutrient solution, and finished debriding and dressing the injury to his hoof."

"Nutrient solution?"

"Yes. He is somewhat dehydrated and undernourished, so I'm going to let the IV run for a little while before proceeding any further. Crewman Cutler is currently making preparations for the procedure on his throat so I came to check on you. So...how are you _really _feeling, hmm?"

The corner of Malcolm's mouth twitched in mild annoyance. "I have a slight—a _very_ slight—headache, which is fast fading on its own. Aside from that I feel _fine_. But you don't believe me, do you?" he asked, seeing the skeptical look on the doctor's face.

"Oh, I believe you _feel_ fine. I'm just not entirely convinced that you _are_ fine." There was a long silence as Phlox pondered his next words. "Your readings are nearly normal at present, but something peculiar happened a short time ago so I want to keep an eye on you for a bit longer."

Malcolm frowned, sitting up straighter. "What do you mean by 'nearly normal', Doctor? If there's something _peculiar_ going on up here," he said, tapping a finger to his temple, "I believe I have a right to know."

Phlox hesitated in his reply but at last spoke. "When Commander Tucker left he told us that you were just dozing off, so once I finished with D'von's leg I came to check on you and found you just waking up. You were asleep for a little less than thirty minutes."

"And it's peculiar that I had a half-hour nap?"

"No no, of course not. The...anomaly occurred _while _you were sleeping. Humans don't usually enter a dream cycle until they've been asleep for well over an hour, but your readings indicate that you began dreaming almost immediately. You wouldn't happen to remember what you were dreaming _about_, would you?"

"I suspect I may have been remembering what happened during my missing fifty-four seconds, though I woke before remembering everything. I was talking to D'von, only..." Malcolm paused, unsure how to describe the sensation. "It was _more_ than talking. I could _hear_ him, but...I could _feel_ him, too, as though he were part of me. It doesn't make sense, I know," he added, seeing the perplexed expression on the doctor's face, "but that's the way it felt." Phlox nodded slowly but said nothing. Both men heard the doors to Sickbay open but ignored it.

Fidgeting on the bed, Malcolm broke the silence. "Commander Tucker mentioned a theory about something called Joining. What exactly is it, and do you think that's what this boy was trying to do?"

"We don't have a _great_ deal of information about it," Phlox started slowly, "but Lehrites have the ability to mentally bond with one another, which they refer to as Joining. But I have found no evidence to suggest that they can do so with non-Lehrites, and I'm not convinced that a child would be able to establish such a link."

"But it's possible," Reed stated flatly.

"Any number of things are _possible_," the doctor admitted, "but I am doubtful that Joining is what happened."

T'Pol stepped past the curtain looking, Malcolm thought, almost uncomfortable. "I apologize for interrupting," she said quietly, "but I have finished going over the files you provided, Doctor, and have cross-referenced them with the Vulcan Database. When you have finished here, I would like to discuss my findings with you."

Folding his arms across his chest in annoyance Malcolm cleared his throat theatrically, drawing the attention of Phlox and T'Pol. "With all due respect Subcommander...Doctor...if these findings have to do with whatever happened to me then I have a right to be privy to your discussion."

Eyebrow arcing almost to her hairline, T'Pol looked to the doctor for permission to continue; after shrugging Phlox nodded in grudging approval, and the subcommander began. "I have found evidence that Joining _can _take place between a Lehrite and a member of another species. I believe that this is what the child was attempting with you, Lieutenant, though it _is_ unlikely that he succeeded."

Phlox looked astounded. "Subcommander, we discussed that earlier and agreed that that a Lehrite child lacks the ability or maturity to initiate such a connection. Additionally, a non-Lehrite brain should not be open to such a link being formed—it would lack the receptors and pathways necessary for such a link."

"Though he may lack the ability to form the connection it is entirely possible, and indeed probable, that D'von made the attempt. As to our earlier hypothesis regarding non-Lehrites, I now believe it to be in error. There is documentation in the Vulcan Database of such a Joining taking place." She paused as if steeling herself against something decidedly unpleasant, then looked at the lieutenant. "While we were in Decon, Dr. Phlox spoke of Vulcan contact with Lehrites. A Vulcan ship was experiencing difficulty, and a Lehrite vessel came to offer assistance. However, a member of the Lehrite crew..._Joined_...with one of the Vulcans."

Malcolm had trouble finding his voice. "What happened to them?" he at last asked.

"The Database doesn't contain any further information about them, except to note that the Vulcan crewman grew increasingly...eccentric."

"Oh, _that's _bloody comforting," Reed muttered under his breath.

Phlox rubbed his chin in contemplation. "In all likelihood, a Vulcan's ability to control his emotions would be adversely affected. I suppose he would have been prone to open displays of emotion, which among Vulcans would be considered eccentric to say the least. Humans have a different set of cultural mores where emotions are concerned," he added in a comforting tone, "so even if D'von _could_ Join with you, Lieutenant, I suspect that the worst side effect you would suffer might be an occasional public smile or two." He grinned broadly at his patient.

After staring in disbelief at the doctor for a second or two Malcolm chuckled, shaking his head at Phlox's attempt to put him at ease. "That's very good, Doctor...quite amusing," he said with mock sarcasm. Phlox grinned wider, pleased with himself, and gave a nod. Suddenly feeling very tired, Malcolm tried to fend off a yawn.

Phlox motioned the subcommander toward the open curtain. "We'll give you some privacy so you can get changed and get some rest," he said, ushering T'Pol out of the cubicle. "I'll come back to update you once we've finished with D'von's throat and horn."

Malcolm nodded, trying and failing to stifle another yawn as they left. He looked at the pajamas still at the foot of the bed, even going so far as picking them up before tossing them on the chair Trip had occupied earlier. At the moment, changing seemed too much like work. He laid back, barely bothering to pull at the blanket before nodding off.

Back in the midst of the glowing blueness, he was still seated on the floor, D'von sitting in front of him. Their conversation picked up where it had left off.

_{Toe-finners on hoo-feets. Ho-kay good. But still dunnint know where ams ress of your head...spe-shul clothes for dangerous places is __silly__. Is jokes, yes? You ams making jokes wiv me?}_

Malcolm found himself entertained by the boy's disbelief, though he supposed he should be annoyed. _I'll show you the rest of my head later, I promise. D'von, I need to know something...where, exactly, are we?_

_{Blue room. Safe here. Yew sed. Ams safe, not hurts...yew sed so, when we were here a-fore an' I wuz doin' sleeps. An' yew singded to me, I finks. Not sure, 'cuz I dinnint hear ev'ryfings. Yew sings now, please?}_ Long eyelashes blinked at him beseechingly.

_Now? I_'_m not sure now is a good time-_

_{Pleasepleasepleeeease? I be good...an' quiets...I promise. Was priddy song, I finks. Felted nice.}_

_I'll make a deal with you...once Dr. Phlox gets you properly mended, I __promise__ to sing to you. For right now, though, I'd like you to tell me where this blue room is. Can you do that, please?_

Deprived of a song, the boy displayed a disappointed pout for all of a millisecond before he broke into a huge smile and giggled merrily. _{Silly Mao-Kim...__I__ dunnint know where ams blue room. Is where yew broughts me. Why-come yew dunnint know where ams?}_

_Where I brought you? But this isn't where..._ Puzzled, Malcolm surveyed his surroundings again. It just looked like glowing blue fog to him. Glowing, familiar-seeming, pastel blue fog. Finally it registered. _Decon? This is what Decon looked like to you?_

_{What ams dee-com?}_

If he couldn't adequately explain an EV suit to this boy, there was no bloody way he was going to even attempt explaining a decontamination chamber. Besides, what did it matter? Malcolm smiled, feeling almost giddy. _Never mind. It's not important. I rather like the name 'blue room' better, anyhow._

More giggles erupted from D'von as he rocked backward, at last rolling onto his back and gleefully pumping his legs in the air as though running in place. At last the child's laughter faded and, still grinning, D'von sat up. _{I like Hoo-mins. Ams fun to be wiv yew.}_ His face grew slightly more serious. _{Can ax question, please?}_

_Certainly._

_{Why yew waited so longs?}_ Ears twitching eagerly, D'von's head tipped to one side in curiosity as he awaited an answer.

_I don't understand...waited for what?_ He felt the boy's mirth travel through him.

_{Sill-eee,} _D'von's voice sing-songed in his head, _{yew sed yew ams Taj djahl-nach but dinnint do Joinding wiv me um-til nows. Do Hoo-mins always waits to do Joinding? Lehrites do Joinding right afters Taj djahl-nach. Is ho-kay, though—we ams Joinded __naow__, so we ams fam-blee, an' kin lissen to each udder __all__ the time. An' yew ams Taj djahl-nach, so yew will takes care uv me, right?}_

At the time it had seemed the most natural answer in the world. _Of course I will._

Wide awake, heart hammering in his chest, Malcolm sat bolt-upright in bed and bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"HO—SHIIII!"


	10. Chapter 10 Revelations

Sorry for the delay...hope I've made it worth the wait. WARNING: D'vonspeak ahead. Lemme know if you need a lexicon ;-) Happy belated Valentine's Day from Seacook...

Chapter Ten: Revelations

"I've got Hoshi trying to track down D'von's people, but so far she's not having much success." Captain Archer stopped pacing and met Phlox's gaze. "We tried contacting the Vulcans to see if they could assist us with that, but they're not too enthusiastic about helping. I guess I should be grateful that they _finally_ agreed to transmit some additional information about Joining to T'Pol."

"I can contact my people if you like," the doctor offered. "Perhaps they would be better able to help contact the Lehrite government."

Archer nodded gratefully at the offer. "Thank you, Phlox. If it wouldn't take us so far off course I'd just have Travis set a course for Lehrite space." Taking a deep breath he exhaled slowly. "According to T'Pol, though," he continued, "these people do a good deal of travelling, so I'm hoping we can contact one of their ships and arrange a rendezvous. They'd certainly be far better equipped to care for D'von and get him back to his family. At the very least, maybe they'd be willing to tell us what 'taj djahl-nach' _really_ means."

"That would be _marvelous_," Malcolm interjected as he strode over to the two men, pajamas tucked under one arm. Seeing Phlox about to speak the lieutenant held up a hand to stop him. "At the moment I feel fine, though I fear if you ask once more how I'm feeling I may well become violent," he joked, taking a deep breath before continuing. "He's not in there, I'm sure," he assured them, tapping a finger to his temple. "I haven't even dreamt of him anymore, since that last bit. Sorry again about the shouting, Doctor. I trust you were able to get your animals calmed down without too much difficulty?"

Phlox nodded with a forgiving smile. "Most of them, yes, but my Pyrithian bat would probably still have a few choice words for you if she could speak."

"Please offer her my sincerest apologies," Malcolm said, straight-faced except for the twinkle in his eyes.

Archer laid a hand on his Armory Officer's shoulder. "If you need anything let us know, all right?"

"Thank you, sir," Reed answered, reflexively standing straighter. "I appreciate that. If I may say so, though, the only thing I need right now is the loo. If you'll excuse me, sir?" The captain silently nodded his approval, marveling at having to grant a grown man permission to use the bathroom. Courteously nodding in return Malcolm headed for the bathroom, the two officers waiting until he was out of sight to continue their discussion.

"Hoshi wants to know if he's still angry with her," Jon commented quietly. "I should have thought to ask him."

The Denobulan shook his head. "I don't believe he was _angry _as much as..._startled_, perhaps."

"Do you know what D'von said to him?"

Phlox shrugged with uncertainty. "I'm sure the lieutenant hasn't yet told me _everything _that the boy said, but Joining and taj djahl-nach were definitely topics of their conversation. D'von told him that they were Joined now and that Mr. Reed was taj djahl-nach, as though it were a title of some sort. The lad also wanted to know if Humans always wait to 'do Joining'."

"So he doesn't know that humans don't _do_ this sort of thing."

"Not yet. I fear he'll be very disappointed when he wakes and finds that he failed to establish a lasting mental link with the lieutenant."

Archer let out a long, slow breath. "Let Hoshi know when you're ready to contact your people. The sooner the better, I think." Phlox silently nodded his agreement and watched the captain leave before heading to his office to organize his reports and decide, before seeking out Ensign Sato, who best among his people to contact.

Meanwhile, Malcolm lingered in the bathroom a few minutes, briefly examining his bruised midsection before fastening his pajama shirt, then staring into the eyes looking back at him from the mirror. "You're fine," he told himself in a soft voice. "No more little boy's voice bouncing about in your head, none of this 'Joining' stuff left over in there...you're just fine." He couldn't quite decide why, if he was so bloody fine, he felt so hollow.

It had felt _good_, he at last admitted to himself. He'd been able to _feel _D'von's trust and adoration, amusement, and absolute confidence that everything was now, to use the tot's own word, 'ho-kay'. And it had felt gloriously wonderful. But, he realized sadly, it was gone now. Time to get back to reality...and back to bed.

Grateful that the captain and doctor were no longer in the immediate area he returned to the center biobed, sparing a look at the bed Trip had occupied after their frigid close call in the shuttlepod not so long ago. D'von was there now, still out like a light, throat swathed in a dressing and half his left horn encased from the base up in what appeared to be a plaster cast. Malcolm shook his head, a wan smile on his lips: the poor little mite had really been through the wringer. And now, when D'von woke, he would have to be told that the Joining hadn't worked. Malcolm wasn't looking forward to _that _task, but felt it only right that he be the one to break the bad news to the boy.

Stretching out on his assigned bed the lieutenant tucked one arm under his head and stared up at the ceiling, mind too busy now to let him sleep. He still felt an obligation to D'von, Joined or not. After all, he'd made a promise to take care of the little imp, so that was what he had to do. The first order of business would be finding the gentlest way to tell D'von that the Joining had been unsuccessful, followed by determining whether the tot knew where his family might be.

His thoughts were interrupted by the faint sobs of a child. "D'von?" Malcolm called out softly, "Are you awake?" He had to strain to hear the answer.

_{Ams lone,}_ the sobbed reply came back. _{Dunnint likes lone. Can come do sleepies wiv yew? Please?}_ the pathetic nasal voice begged.

"You're not alone, D'von," Malcolm assured him, slowly sitting up. "I'm right here, in the next bed. And you shouldn't be talking just yet—Dr. Phlox wants you to rest your vocal cords so they'll heal properly."

_{Pleeease, can come do sleepies wiv you?}_ D'von pleaded, his voice fainter. _{I be goods...promise. Cannint do sleepies lone...is like on da bad ship...ams fraid. An' cannint hears yew so much. Pleeeease, can come be wiv yew?}_

The sorrowful pleading was almost more than Malcolm could bear, but he couldn't very well tell the tot to come over to him. "You need to stay right where you are—you've just had you're hoof mended, remember? I'm right here." Another heartrending sob, fainter still, enveloped him.

_{I ams bad? Is whycome I cannint do sleepies wiv yew?}_ The boy's woeful, feeble voice sounded miles away.

"Of course you're not bad. I just don't want you trying to walk on that hoof." His mind made up, Malcolm tried to comfort the boy as he rose from the bed. "I'll come get you. But you mustn't try to speak. Rest your throat, remember?" As he approached the bed he saw D'von's head nod.

Though still teary-eyed the toddler shone a grateful smile at the lieutenant, voice louder and lips unmoving as he answered. _{I 'membered—no talks yet. Hokay good. I gunda come do sleepies wiv yew naow, right?}_

Malcolm's breath caught in his throat, waves of gratitude from the boy sweeping over him at the same time as the realization that D'von's voice had been in his head for the entire conversation. At last his voice returned. "Yes...you're coming with me. You just need to be patient a moment, all right?" D'von gave another tiny nod and tossed back his blanket as Malcolm set about rolling the IV stand around the head of the bed, trying not to notice the boy's state of undress. The boy contentedly stroked the pouch still hanging about his neck as he waited. Checking to ensure that the line wasn't snagged or pinched Reed moved the stand as close to his bed as possible before tenderly lifting his charge. Depositing D'von on the center biobed, Malcolm finished moving the IV before walking to the other side and climbing in beside the child, laying on his side to make more room on the narrow surface. Once settled, he laid his blanket over the both of them.

Stroking the small face he watched the boy's welcoming eyes. D'von reached up and laid a hand on his cheek; without realizing he was doing it, Malcolm lowered his head until their foreheads touched. They pulled away from one another after a few seconds, D'von beaming up at him.

"Are you comfortable?" Malcolm asked, already knowing the answer.

_{Ya-huh. Is nice. Is hokay to do sleepy snuggles?}_ the boy asked with a yawn.

"What's a sleepy snuggle?" Reed asked, puzzled. D'von demonstrated, carefully turning until his back was against Malcolm's stomach, face pillowed by Reed's arm and the back of his head nestled against the man's chest. Malcolm draped his other arm protectively around the boy, feeling D'von drift serenely back to sleep. He felt himself grow momentarily drowsy but was able to fend off the sensation. That seemed promising: he'd been unprepared for the effect of the sedative, but being able to push back the sleepy feeling made him feel confident that with a little extra mental discipline on his part, this whole Joining thing might really be manageable. Of course, he reminded himself, the last time he'd felt confident about that his captain had wound up toting his inert form to a biobed.

It didn't take long for the doctor to come bustling in, alarmed to find the monitors for D'von's bed giving no readings. The empty biobed stunned the Denobulan, but finding his patients spooning in the middle bed left him astounded.

Malcolm risked raising his hand from around the boy to put a finger to his lips. "Shh," he urged. "He's just gone back to sleep." Phlox stepped closer, still speechless, as Reed spoke in a hushed whisper. "I was apparently mistaken," he admitted after a moment. "Knocking D'von out didn't severe the connection...it merely interrupted it. I could hear him in my mind when he woke up, though at first I thought he was speaking."

Finding his voice at last, Phlox chastised the lieutenant as quietly as possible. "Mr. Reed, you should have notified me at once. And you certainly shouldn't have allowed him out of bed!"

"Give me at least a _little_ credit, Doctor. I didn't let him get out of bed, I carried him over here."

Phlox had to struggle to keep his voice down. "What in the world would possess you to _do_ such a thing without _telling_ me?" he scolded. "How can I properly monitor vital signs for _either _of you when you're both in the same biobed!"

Malcolm debated whether to confide in the doctor, then dismissed his qualms and forged ahead. "You have children, Phlox. Tell me something: when they were very young and something frightened them—a nightmare perhaps, or a storm in the night—could they come to you?"

Phlox considered his answer. "Of course," he replied softly. "Our sleep patterns are a bit different from Humans so nightmares are less of a problem but yes, there were times when they were afraid and needed to be comforted." He studied the lieutenant's eyes, confused by the sorrow and anxiousness there.

There was a long silence before Reed replied in a wistful voice, his gaze shifting to the ceiling. "I envy them, Doctor." One corner of his mouth twitched as he decided how much he should say. "_My_ father," he said, throwing caution to the wind, "believed that _coddling_ his children was the worst thing he could do—thought it would make us unable to withstand the rigors life would throw at us, I suppose. He was not the sort to come dashing to his child's bedside at the first sound of dismay, and I soon found out that my dashing to _his_ bedside would provide no comfort. I learned early on that my only option was to simply lie awake and bear it as best I could. When my sister came along I'd slip into her room when I'd hear her cry out. I'd talk to her, or hold her, or sing to her, until she'd calmed down. I knew what it felt like to just stare terrified at the ceiling, knowing I was alone...and I didn't want her to have to feel that way, too.

"When D'von cried out," he asked, eyes fixing back on the Denobulan, "what was I _supposed_ to do, Doctor? Ignore him? Tell him he was being absurd? He was afraid and alone and he needed to have someone _with _him, not just in the next bed. When I told him he had to stay in his own bed he thought he was being _punished_, for God's sake—he asked if I was making him stay there because he'd been _bad_. He said..." Malcolm had to pause to calm himself, breath shuddering as he exhaled. "He said it was like being back on that bloody ship where we found him. How was I supposed to ignore that, Phlox?"

The doctor nodded in understanding. "You weren't. It would have been helpful, though, if you had summoned me when this happened so I could—"

"Monitor our readings, yes yes, I know," Reed shot back in annoyance.

Phlox smiled paternally, giving the man a moment to calm down. "Assist you in moving the boy," he finished, drawing a tiny bit of satisfaction from Malcolm's surprised expression. "And yes," he admitted, "also so I could check for any abnormalities in vital signs from either of you." With a resigned sigh the doctor pulled a scanner from his pocket and scanned the older of his patients. "You seem fit enough at present, though your neural readings are a bit off-kilter..._again_." His features softened as he studied the lieutenant. "Are you going to be _comfortable_ sleeping like that?"

"I am so far. However, I _am _curious as to why D'von is still naked."

Phlox smiled broadly. "Well, for _some_ reason, we failed to stock up on children's pajamas before leaving Earth," he joked. "Not to worry, though—Crewman Cutler volunteered to see to our patient's wardrobe needs. She said she'd bring something by first thing in the morning."

Reed nodded his approval. "He doesn't seem to mind, but it doesn't seem right for him to have to be stark naked. And once he's feeling better it would be quite inappropriate for him to be dashing about the ship in such a state. I'm fairly sure Captain Archer would frown upon that." He paused as a dreadful thought occurred to him. "I realize that what happened when I woke up earlier had to be reported to the captain," he said, "but I was wondering how _much_ you had to tell him?"

Phlox gave a huge grin. "Ah, you want to know if I told him about your frantic, wild-eyed pacing back and forth, alternately mumbling and shouting about Joining, family, and inaccurate translations? No," he consoled the lieutenant, his grin diminishing to a comforting smile. "I saw no need to go into _all _the details. I merely told him that you woke up visibly upset and rather distraught, and that the phrase Hoshi suggested using apparently means something different from what she thought. And he already knew about you shouting Ensign Sato's name, but that's only because I was speaking to her over the comm at the time. However," the doctor offered in jest, "if you'd _like_ me to give him more details—"

"Oh God please, no," Reed moaned. "It's embarrassing enough that you and your menagerie witnessed my outburst, and that Hoshi heard any of it. If the captain knew _all _the sordid details he'd likely order the walls of my quarters padded and never let me out." He gave Phlox a grateful look. "Thank you for your discretion, Doctor. I really do appreciate it." Pausing to gather his thoughts he at last asked, "Any luck locating any Lehrites?"

Phlox shook his head. "Not yet...but it _is _still early in the search. Right now I believe Captain Archer would be satisfied to get the information the Vulcans promised to send." Scanning D'von he frowned slightly then checked the boy's IV.

"Something's wrong," Malcolm said, more statement that question.

The doctor's head tipped slightly to one side. "I administered antibiotics earlier but his temperature is rising again. It's not high enough to be dangerous at this point," he added, taking a blood sample from the child, "but it could become a problem. There are naturally-occurring beneficial microbes in his digestive tract which could be adversely affected by an additional dose of antibiotics so we'll wait a little while to see if his temperature comes down on its own, hmm?"

"You mean after all that time in Decon something still got through?"

Phlox shook his head. "The antibiotics were given as a preventative measure to keep D'von from catching anything from _us_," the doctor patiently explained. "His immune system has been weakened by the lack of proper nutrition during his captivity and the infection in the injuries he sustained to his horn and hoof. The elevation in temperature could be a normal result of the stress he's been under, or it could be something more serious. We'll just have to wait and see."

Thoughtfully tapping two fingers against his lips Phlox considered his options. "I'll keep the IV going and increase the nutrient solution to see if we can give him a little boost, and you should call me if you notice a dramatic increase in his temperature or any sign of distress. Additionally, I should be able to attach small biomonitors to the both of you in order to record your vital signs. That way you can both stay in the same bed if you wish." Reed nodded silently and the doctor continued. "Very well. I'll go prepare the additional IV fluids and get the monitors...it won't take too long. You should try to get some rest, hmm?" Biting his lower lip Malcolm nodded and watched as the doctor started to walk away then turn and come back.

Bending slightly Phlox smiled broadly. "Remember, Lieutenant," he whispered, "_optimism_. If you are indeed Joined with this lad he's going to _know _if you're excessively worried or depressed, and it will have an impact on him. The best way for you to help him is to channel positive emotions to him. If you're having trouble generating such emotions just keep reminding yourself that he is alive and safe and is being well-cared for. Or perhaps think back on some pleasant memories from your past, hmm?"

"I'll do my best," Malcolm promised. Waiting until the doctor had departed he looked down at the tyke. "Pity you didn't knock heads with Mistah Tuckah," he murmured to the small slumbering form cuddled against him. "You'd have more treacly optimism than you'd know what to do with. That would probably be the Lehrite equivalent of being let loose in a candy shop, eh?"

The only thing worrying him as he felt himself dozing off was what had possessed him to speak to Phlox about his father. The doctor would, Malcolm was certain, keep such a conversation confidential. Still, that made twice in one day that he'd gotten overly chatty about his childhood. Such lapses would simply have to stop. Pushing that bit of business to the back of his mind Malcolm sought to follow the doctor's instructions, pulling up happier memories until at last he fell asleep with traces of a smile on his face.

Several hours later he slowly woke, feeling as though he were being watched. D'von had shifted position and was now facing him, but the lad was still sleeping soundly. Two small, round disks were attached to the boy's temples and a small, slender device not quite the size of a hand scanner was fastened to D'von's chest, partially obscured by the boy's pouch. Hand drifting down to rub his own chest Reed felt a similar apparatus beneath his shirt, firmly affixed to the center of his chest. It amazed him that he had slept through the doctor attaching the gizmos to the both of them. Casting a look around Malcolm's eyes fell upon a worried-looking Crewman Cutler standing next to the bed.

"Lt. Reed?" she whispered. "Are you all right?" The evident concern on her face was enough to prevent one of Malcolm's automatic 'I'm fine' responses.

He blinked a few times, puzzled by her worry. "I believe so," he answered. "Why? Is something wrong? Is there a problem with D'von?" He looked down at the boy but saw nothing amiss.

"He's doing very well," Cutler assured the lieutenant. "I just came by to drop this off," she explained, holding up a folded bundle of tan fabric, "and to see if the doctor needed any help with anything. When I came in here, though...you were...the two of you were," she faltered, unsure how to continue. "You were...doing it again," she at last managed.

Malcolm gave her a thoroughly perplexed stare. "Doing _what_?" he finally asked.

"Umm...well," she struggled for an explanation. "The head thing. You know," she said, tapping the center of her forehead with her index finger. "The two of you were cemented at the skull again."

"The _head_ thing," he responded slowly, self-consciously rubbing at his forehead and noticing the small button-like devices on either side. "I don't remember it. You're quite certain?"

"Oh yes," the crewman nodded. "You both looked like you were asleep but I scanned the two of you and got the same unusual neural readings Phlox recorded earlier."

"The same sort of thing happened when we first got in bed together, I think. The doctor told me that my readings were 'off kilter'." He shook his head as he looked at the sleeping child but couldn't suppress a wry grin. "You're quite the little imp, sneaking up on me while I'm asleep."

"Maybe he didn't realize he was doing it," Elizabeth gently defended the boy. "For all we know, it's the Lehrite equivalent of sleepwalking."

"Mmm. I suppose it's possible," Malcolm agreed. "I was dreaming," he told her. "Wherever I was, it was dark and brutally hot, but a refreshing cool breeze started blowing. Then I woke to find you checking on us...but I don't recall 'the head thing'. Speaking of being hot, has D'von's temperature come down?" he asked, worried. "It had gone up before, and the doctor was concerned."

"I'm not sure what his temperature was before," Cutler said, "but it appears normal now. Did you notice any problems while he was sleeping?"

"Aside from our apparently knocking noggins in our sleep? No...no problems at all." The two fell silent for a moment before Malcolm felt the need to change the subject. "Phlox said you offered to find some suitable garments for the little chap. Any success?"

Cutler gave a self-satisfied grin. "As a matter of fact," she said, unfurling the fabric she'd been holding, "I have. Mind you, it's still a little too large, but we figured it would make a perfect nightshirt for him."

Reed stared in stunned silence until he found what he hoped would be an inoffensive reaction. "It's quite lovely, but isn't it a bit...flowery? For a boy, I mean?" he hastened to add. The shirt was indeed pretty, the silky tan fabric festooned with yellow orchids. Malcolm's first thought was that Trip had provided it, but it wasn't nearly garish enough to have come from the engineer's collection of retina-searing off-duty shirts. Plus it was far too small to be Trip's, and too feminine.

"It's just a stopgap," the crewman assured him with a chuckle. "It's one of Hoshi's camisoles. We thought it would be close to the right size for him—after we did a few alterations of course. But some of us are working on a more extensive wardrobe for him. Between the quartermaster, the ensign, a couple others, and myself, we'll have him up to his cute little floppy ears in clothing in no time. If the pictures in the Vulcan Database are any indication Lehrites don't wear pants, which is making things much easier."

"No pants?" Malcolm looked shocked.

"Nope. More like kilts, only without all the plaid. Don't worry," she assured him, "we'll be sure to put together an appropriately masculine wardrobe for him. And once he's awake we can double-check with him about the pants." Refolding the shirt she put it on the nearby utility table before taking scans of Malcolm and D'von and getting readings from the biomonitors the doctor had placed on them. "I told Phlox I'd get a few additional readings from the two of you," she explained. "I'd better go turn in these scan results."

"Where _is_ the doctor, anyway?"

"I think he's with Subcommander T'Pol, going over the information the Vulcans sent to her. I can get him if you want," she offered.

Lips pursed, Reed shook his head. "No, thank you. Probably best that he finishes his conference with the subcommander first. I would like to ask a favor, though, if you wouldn't mind."

"What is it?"

"When you see Hoshi, would you please tell her the shirt is grand. I'm certain D'von will love it. And thank whomever else you've recruited for clothing duty." With a smile and a nod, Elizabeth exited Sickbay, waiting until the doors had closed behind her to let the smile slip away. With a worried glance at the scanner she hurried to find Phlox, hoping she'd done the right thing in not telling Lt. Reed that he, and not D'von, had initiated 'the head thing'.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Archer's appetite fled as Phlox stood in the Captain's Mess and reported his findings. He could see that Trip was no longer concerned with food either: the engineer gaped at the Denobulan in disbelief.

The captain broke the silence. "You're sure it's permanent?"

"Quite sure, Captain," Phlox said. "The link established by Lehrites during Joining lasts for the lifetime of the parties involved."

"And these additional...episodes?" Jon asked. "How many times did D'von get into Malcolm's mind while they were asleep?"

"I reviewed the scans, and it looks like at least four times," the doctor admitted. "Once, it seems, immediately after the lieutenant put D'von into bed with him, twice after Mr. Reed went back to sleep, and once just as Crewman Cutler went to check on them for me. Now, although Lt. Reed's neural readings have been slightly abnormal following these encounters, I do not believe he is in any jeopardy. And I'm not convinced that D'von was 'getting into Malcolm's mind', as you put it. When a Lehrite is injured or ill, they turn to others in their family or community, drawing energy from healthy people to aid in their recovery. The only person here able to fill that role is Lt. Reed. I believe that D'von is simply trying to draw the energy he needs from Malcolm."

Trip paled. "Ya mean he's feedin' offa Malcolm? Like some sorta...vampire or somethin'?" he asked in disbelief.

"'Feeding' is hardly an accurate description, Commander," Phlox gingerly corrected. "Nor is 'vampire', for that matter. It's more like," Phlox paused as he came up with an apt comparison, "like recharging a power cell of, say, a phase pistol." He rather thought Lt. Reed would appreciate _that_ analogy. "The power cell has a limited amount of energy stored in it, which needs to be replaced when it is depleted. Similarly, D'von's energy has been drained by his ordeal and his injuries, and he is recharging in the only way presently available to him. And you might be interested to know that D'von has not always been the one to initiate this...procedure. You'll recall, Commander, that when you and the lieutenant were reassuring D'von about the imaging chamber Mr. Reed took hold of the boy's face."

"Well _yeah_," Trip replied. "That's when Malcolm got zapped by the little guy."

"He was not _zapped_," Phlox protested. "According to the additional records sent by the Vulcans, such facial caresses are a means of communicating either a request to initiate mental contact or a means of granting permission to do so. D'von no doubt interpreted the lieutenant's gesture of comfort as a sign that it was acceptable to commence with Joining. The same sort of caresses took place with each subsequent episode, and in the incident Crewman Cutler witnessed Mr. _Reed_ initiated contact, _not_ D'von."

The captain shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "What are these 'incidents' doing to Malcolm's brain, Doctor? How much damage are they causing?"

"At this point none that I have detected. His neuropeptide levels dropped after the initial Joining and there has been increased activity in various sections of his brain, but there is no synaptic damage showing up on any of my scans. And his neuropeptide levels are nearly back to normal."

Archer contemplated what he'd been told then looked at his science officer standing silently off to one side. "You've been awfully quiet so far, Subcommander. Anything you'd care to contribute?"

T'Pol looked unnaturally ill at ease as she spoke. "I would advise trying to find a way to dampen or counteract the effects of Joining in case problems develop."

"What sort of problems?" Trip asked before Jon could get the question out.

"The possibility of future neurological or psychological damage exists. Some sort of contingency plan should be put in place in case such damage occurs."

"Doc?" Trip asked uncertainly. He was still struggling with the idea of D'von using Malcolm to 'recharge', and hearing that his friend's brain might be scrambled as a result did nothing to ease his concerns.

Jon interrupted before the doctor could answer. "T'Pol...what happened to the Vulcan that was Joined with a Lehrite sixty years ago?"

A millisecond of dread and discomfort crossed her face before T'Pol spoke. "According to the records I received, he gradually lost the ability to control his emotions. He grew increasingly eccentric, his behavior becoming more illogical and irrational as time passed. His family placed him in a facility that dealt with disorders of the mind. The doctors were able to _slow_ the rate of mental deterioration but could not halt it. Not long after his hospitalization he escaped and fled Vulcan. What happened to him after that is unknown."

"The Vulcan brain is substantially different from that of a human," Phlox pointed out. "There is no reason to automatically assume that what happened to that Vulcan fellow will also happen to Lt. Reed."

"Agreed," T'Pol said. "However, we must not ignore the possibility that it _could_."

The long, oppressive silence was broken by Captain Archer as he slowly slid his plate away. "When you sedated D'von," he started slowly, "the connection between the two of them was interrupted. You could sedate him again. Keep him under until we find his people."

Phlox shook his head. "I _could_, but I _won't_. Contrary to popular belief Lehrites are not a _frail _species, but they do have rather sensitive systems which are susceptible to adverse reactions to a number of medications. Sedating D'von earlier was a risky proposition but was necessary to treat his injuries, and was only possible because I used a miniscule amount of the mildest sedative I have on hand. Sedating him again now could cause physical damage or even death. It is simply not an option at this time. But I do agree with Subcommander T'Pol regarding a contingency plan. I'll continue to monitor their biosigns and neural readings—if any signs of synaptic damage or erratic behavior appear I should be able to use neurosedation on the lieutenant without any unpleasant aftereffects.

"There is something else you should know," the doctor added. "The norm among Lehrites is for all the members of a community to be Joined with one another. It would be safe to assume that once D'von is up and around he'll be expecting the rest of us to Join with him as well. When he wakes up I will do my best to explain to him that Humans don't do that sort of thing, but it might be a good idea to discreetly notify the crew, hmm? I can put together an informational packet for them if you like."

Archer gave Phlox a grateful look. "That would be very helpful. Thanks, Phlox."

"Happy to be of service, Captain," the doctor said with a slight bow of his head. "And again, I feel confident that Mr. Reed is in no danger from this experience. It would be best to maintain a somewhat less somber mood around him. There's no sense in causing him any undue worry. When I return to Sickbay I'll fill him in on our discussion. Speaking of which I should get back there to check on my patients: I asked Ms. Cutler to keep an eye on them but I'm sure she'd like to get some breakfast before tending to her regular duties."

Trip rose as Phlox stepped toward the door. "Mind if I tag along? Maybe I could, y'know...help ya tell him what's goin' on?" He looked to Jon with pleading eyes, and the captain nodded his consent.

Phlox smiled broadly, opening the door and stepping aside to let the engineer exit first. "Not at all," he said. "Perhaps seeing him will put your mind at ease, and I'm sure the lieutenant would appreciate the company. Just try to bear in mind that D'von is an innocent child trying to adapt to an alien situation and not some sort of _vampire_, hmm?"


	11. Chapter 11

NOTE: When I realized how long this chapter had gotten I considered breaking it up, but decided to leave it as is. Everyone has waited so patiently (and for so long!) it seemed appropriate to reward that patience with a long chapter. Not sure when the next installment will be ready but hopefully it won't take as much time as this one did.

Chapter Eleven

Elizabeth Cutler hustled to the door as Phlox and Trip entered Sickbay. "I was just going to call you," she told the doctor. "Something's wrong with Lt. Reed. He's having some sort of nightmare or something, but I can't wake him." She led the way to the biobed, pulling back the privacy curtain as she reached it. All three stopped in their tracks. Malcolm was shifting about and moaning softly, head lolling back and forth on the upraised head of the bed. D'von was kneeling on the bed alongside the lieutenant, desperately stroking Reed's face and squeaking in frantic despair.

Trip's first impulse was to go snatch the child away before he could suck up any more of Malcolm's "energy" but Phlox put out a restraining hand and stepped over to the bed. When D'von looked at the doctor Tucker got a good look at the boy's face and felt like an ass: the kid was obviously as concerned as they were—moreso, judging from his tear-filled eyes and the noises he was making. _'Not a kid, remember?' _Trip reprimanded himself. '_The lieutenant declared that moniker to be disrespectful.'_

The Denobulan calmly but quickly took a scan and checked readings, at last placing a comforting hand on the child's shoulder. "Shh," he urged tenderly. "You need to calm down, D'von...and stop trying to speak before you do damage to your vocal cords, hmm?" With a hiccupped snuffle the boy fell silent and nodded, looking down at Malcolm and silently stroking the man's cheek.

Though he was still asleep Reed's hand slowly moved, coming to rest on D'von's cheek. Blinking away tears the boy smiled as he lowered his head and tenderly laid his forehead against Malcolm's. The lieutenant instantly went still, a sigh escaping from him. The monitor on D'von's chest began chirping madly, bringing a look of deep concern to the doctor's face. Before Phlox could try to tell the boy to break the connection, however, Malcolm's eyes opened, bringing a smile to D'von's face before the tot leaned away from Reed and tipped over backward, eyes fluttering closed.

Still standing directly behind the child, Phlox kept him from falling off the bed, steering the semiconscious Lehrite's body to rest alongside the lieutenant. With an ill-concealed frown he scanned D'von, his features at last relaxing as he declared with relief, "His vital signs are returning to normal."

"What just happened?" Malcolm croaked groggily, looking at the others in puzzlement.

"It would seem," Phlox replied, "that D'von sensed that you were in distress and tried to help you."

"Is he all right?" Malcolm urgently demanded. "He hasn't injured himself, has he?" He examined the child but saw nothing amiss.

"His vital signs did become rather erratic but they've leveled of now. He's just overextended himself a bit—he'll be fine once he's had a chance to rest."

Reed squinted suspiciously at the doctor. "Overextended himself _how_?"

Phlox puckered his lips thoughtfully. "Several times while the two of you have been sleeping," he began slowly, "there were episodes when you and D'von touched foreheads."

"Ms. Cutler mentioned that earlier," Malcolm responded. "She referred to it as 'the head thing.'"

Liz shrugged sheepishly at the Denobulan. "I didn't know what else to call it," she explained.

Phlox smiled. "Yes, well, during each 'head thing', there was an exchange of energy." The doctor then launched into his phase pistol analogy. "It would seem that during this last contact," he concluded, "D'von either expended much of that energy or returned it to you. It will take a little time for him to recoup his losses, but his condition is stable."

"Why would you risk doing such a thing?" the lieutenant softly pondered aloud as he looked down at the boy's face.

_{We ams famblee,}_ the boy's voice slurred in his head. _{Yew hadz dream that yew ams fraids an' loss. I hadza fines yew. Hadza hewp.}_ The golden eyes creaked open tiredly. _{Yew hewped me on da bad ship, an' in da blue room when I was fraids. Hadza hewp yew back.}_

Malcolm opened his mouth but couldn't push the words past the lump in his throat. Looking at the three people standing at his bedside and swallowing hard, he at last found his voice. "He says he had to help me," he explained softly.

Trip looked shamefaced. "Well now I _do_ feel like a damned idiot. I thought his hookin' up with ya again might hurt ya. I was gonna try ta stop him."

_{What ams dam-id-yot?}_ D'von asked, slightly more awake.

Malcolm stifled a chuckle with only partial success. "I believe it would be best to watch your language, Commander. D'von wants to know what a 'dam-id-yot' is. Would you care to elaborate for him?" Reed fixed mirthful eyes on the engineer, one eyebrow sliding upward with a grace that would have put T'Pol to shame.

The commander's face went red. "Oh jeez...I wasn't...I didn't think he was payin' _attention_!" he stammered.

_{Oooo,}_ D'von marveled as he sat up, now wide awake and bright-eyed. _{Dinnint know Hoomins could change colors! Red is __priddy__. Can do udder colors?}_

Seeing the widening grin on the lieutenant's face, Trip grew more flustered. "He said somethin' about me, didn't he? Spill it, Malcolm—whaddid he say?"

Malcolm sat up, putting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "He wasn't aware that humans could change their pigmentation and wants to know if you can do other colors. He seems to think red is a pretty shade for you, though. What do _you_ think, Crewman?"

Cutler pretended to seriously consider the question, cocking her head to one side and fighting back a grin as she studied the commander. "Hmm...I'm not certain. It's _okay_, I suppose. Doesn't really match his eyes, though." She finally shone a broad smile at Tucker.

"Very funny, Liz," Trip drawled back with a grin of his own, the blush fading from his features. He looked into the inquisitive little face staring up at him and shrugged. "Sorry little guy, red's the only other color I've got. It's called 'blushing'—usually happens when a person's embarrassed about somethin'. Like usin' language that I shouldn't have in front of a little boy. I'm sorry 'bout that."

D'von's head tipped first to one side and then the other as he pondered Trip's words. _{Jus red when bare-assed. Hokay good.}_ The boy turned his attention to Malcolm, his tone suddenly urgent. _{Mao-kim? Goddago.}_

Still amused by the lad's mangling of 'embarrassed', Reed had to mull over 'goddago' for a few seconds. "You don't need to go anywhere," he assured the boy once he'd deciphered the new word. "You're fine right here."

D'von shook his head emphatically. _{Nuh-uh. Goddago. Goddago __naow__.}_ To emphasize his words the boy bounced his bottom on the bed several times, clutching himself "down below" with both hands. _{Goddagogoddagogoddago,} _he chanted in Malcolm's mind. At the same time Reed was abruptly confronted with the sensation of a _very _full bladder.

Though they all realized simultaneously what the problem was, Liz had the quickest reaction time. "I've got him," she volunteered, scooping up the tot and grabbing Hoshi's camisole from the utility table. With D'von and the shirt firmly in one arm Cutler wrapped her free hand around the IV pole and towed it alongside as she bustled toward the bathroom. "You just need to hold it for a few more seconds, okay?" Liz urged.

_{Hokay. Ams ho-ding,}_ D'von politely replied, heard by none except Malcolm. _{Yew ams __booo__-ti-ful, Hoomin lady. Cans walk fasser, please?}_ he added, voice fading from the lieutenant's mind as he was carried off. The lieutenant was grateful to find the ever-increasing pressure on his bladder fading as well.

Relieved, Malcolm sank back on the bed and watched them disappear from sight. "Close call," he observed before looking at his remaining visitors. Watching their faces grow more serious, he grew uneasy. "I presume this isn't a social visit." Seeing the hesitation in their eyes as Phlox and Trip exchanged looks drew an impatient sigh from Malcolm. "Let's have done with it, shall we?" he urged, sitting up again. "From the looks on your faces I should be planning my funeral—has there really been that much damage to my grey cells?"

"No, no," Phlox rushed to assure him. "Indeed, there doesn't appear to be any damage at all. However, the Vulcans finally sent the information we were waiting for. It would seem that when you touched his face earlier, when you were reassuring him about the imaging chamber, he thought he was being given permission to Join with you. We've also learned that once a Lehrite is Joined with someone, the connection is...permanent." The doctor proceeded to give a detailed recap of the conference which had taken place in the Captain's Mess, complete with descriptions of the subsequent contacts that had taken place between Malcolm and the boy, the potential that D'von would expect to eventually be Joined with the rest of the crew, and a tactfully phrased outline of the Vulcan's fate. The doctor then hastened to add the same assurances that he'd offered the captain about the lack of synaptic damage and offering the option of neurosedation if it became necessary. Leaving out any mention of Commander Tucker's vampire comment, he finished by mentioning the information he planned to put together for the crew and the task of explaining to the young Lehrite that Joining with additional crewmembers would be unacceptable.

The lieutenant listened with uncharacteristic patience, giving an occasional nod of acknowledgement but maintaining a contemplative silence throughout the doctor's oration. When Phlox at last fell silent Malcolm looked away from the Denobulan, still saying nothing. Trip had been braced for a variety of reactions, expecting anything from a full-blown "why do these things always happen to me" rant to some classic Malcolmesque "it's all my fault" self-flagellation, or perhaps something somewhere between the two. This prolonged silence, with the Armoury Officer staring pensively at the foot of the biobed, was unanticipated and worrisome. And damned near unbearable. Hell, T'Pol had displayed more emotion in the Captain's Mess when she'd told them about the whole Vulcan/Lehrite Joining thing.

"Malcolm?" Trip looked at his friend with concern, no longer able to stand the quiet. "You haven't said anything fer awhile. You okay?"

"Hmm? What? Oh...sorry, Trip," Malcolm looked up at his friend, snapping out of his reverie. "It's just taking some time to absorb all of this, I suppose." He slowly turned his attention back to the doctor. "Being Joined with a Human isn't going to harm D'von, is it?"

Phlox looked surprised: the possibility hadn't occurred to him. "I shouldn't think so—Joining is something that he's accustomed to, something his brain is _designed_ to do. Nevertheless, I'll be monitoring _both_ of you for a while yet, just to be safe."

Malcolm sighed with relief, closing his eyes in thought for a moment. He drew a deep breath before looking at the two men again, fresh resolve in his voice as he spoke. "I'll talk to him, Phlox. I'll explain about not Joining with anyone else."

"Are you certain?" Phlox asked, looking relieved at the offer.

"Quite. Besides, I'm the only one who can hear him right now, so it makes sense that I be the one to do it. After all, how will you know if he truly understands what you're trying to tell him? I'd have to be there as a sort of translator anyhow, so it seems more practical for me to go ahead and talk to him rather than go through a bunch of back-and-forth between the two of you."

The Denobulan's head tipped sideways in contemplation. "I suppose you're right. I must confess, I was dreading having to explain it to him. If you're sure you don't mind, I would welcome being relieved of that particular chore."

"It's settled then. I'll tend to the explanations to D'von, and that will free you to direct your attention to other tasks. I _would_ like to read the information about his people when you get it together, if you don't mind."

"You'll be the first. Perhaps you'll be able to offer some insights or add anything I might miss, hmm?"

Reed shot an amused glance at the doctor. "I'd be happy to, though I'm not sure how much help I'd be with that. All I know about Lehrites so far is what I've heard from you and Subcommander T'Pol. There is something I've noticed, though—have you found any information regarding how strong this connection is? When Crewman Cutler took D'von away, his voice grew fainter as they moved off. I can still _sense _him, mind you," he added, tapping a finger against his temple, "but it's rather like having someone whispering to me from two rooms away. Is there some sort of...I don't know..._range_ to the bond?"

"I'm not sure," Phlox admitted, "but I'll certainly check into it. If there's nothing else, I'll go check on Crewman Cutler and our young friend and let you two have a visit. Don't hesitate to call if you need anything, Lieutenant." With that the doctor strode away, leaving the two friends to their own devices.

Pulling the nearby chair alongside the bed, Trip settled in and studied Reed's face. "You sure yer okay? I mean, with all this Joining stuff? You didn't say much after Phlox got through talkin'."

"Well, it _was_ a lot to take in." Going silent for a moment Malcolm thought back to what the commander had said earlier and fixed a skeptical eye on him, folding his arms across his chest. "You really thought D'von would _hurt_ me?"

"Of course not," Trip defended himself. "At least, I didn't think he'd hurt ya on _purpose_. It's just that...well, Phlox had just gotten through telling us about D'von drawin' energy from you, then we came in here an' found you havin' some sorta nightmare, an' Cutler couldn't wake you up. An' the little guy was tryin' ta connect with ya again...I didn't realize he was tryin' ta help ya, Mal. At first I thought he was lookin' for another recharge an' I was worried that, in the state you were in, another hookup would mess you up more. Musta been a helluva dream, the way you were tossin' around...but I guess whatever D'von did helped, huh?"

"He did quite well," Reed replied with a measure of pride, then grew thoughtful before answering the question in Trip's eyes. "And yes, it was a hell of a dream. I was looking for Maddie. She was in trouble and calling me, only I couldn't find her. I was here—on _Enterprise_—only none of the doors or corridors went where they were supposed to. I kept winding up either going in circles or stuck in dead ends, and I was getting frantic to find Maddie but didn't even know where _I _was. Then I rounded a corner and D'von was standing there next to the turbolift, holding his hand out to me." He chuckled at the memory of the image. "He looked quite chuffed with that big grin on his face. Same expression _you_ get when you make off with the last piece of pie in the Mess Hall," he commented with a teasing smirk. "I took hold of his hand and made to get into the lift with him, and woke up to find you lot hovering over me."

"I think 'hovering' is a bit of an exaggeration," the engineer protested mockingly. "Besides, we were worried aboutcha. An' D'von kinda tipped over when he got done, so it's a good thing Phlox was standin' close to tha bed."

"Tipped over? What do you mean?" Malcolm demanded.

"The little guy kinda swooned. He snapped right out of it, though. Doc said he'd be okay once he rested, remember?" Trip reassured him. The friends fell silent, pondering the morning's events, until a thought occurred to Trip. "You never did get a chance to explain that whole 'quid pro quo' thing that you an' Phlox were talkin' about last night. And what was D'von wiggling that had the two of you so amused?"

Malcolm laughed aloud. "It was quite a sight. Seems the tot is fascinated by human feet, since he'd never seen any before yesterday, and I wiggled my toes for him. According to Phlox, Lehrites are quite keen on repaying people who do things for them. Since D'von couldn't very well wiggle his toes back at me he bent over, pulled the blanket out of the way, and wiggled his tail. My friend, I believe you are looking at the first Human to have been mooned by a Lehrite."

"An' I missed it," Trip lamented with a chuckle. "Damn."

"As I said before, Commander, you might want to start minding your language," Malcolm reminded him with good humor. "You've yet to explain 'dam-id-yot' to D'von, and I'd rather he not pick up _too_ many of your more colorful phrases. Wouldn't want to shock his parents too greatly once we get him back to them—might cause an unpleasant diplomatic incident between our two species."

Tucker failed in his attempt to keep a straight face. "Aye, sir," he replied, tossing off a salute for good measure. After a few moments' silence curiosity got the best of the engineer. "Malcolm...what's it feel like?" he asked with a slightly awestruck tone. "You said the connecting part didn't _hurt_, but...what's it like?"

Malcolm had to give it some thought: his earlier attempts to describe any of it had seemed wholly inadequate, and he still didn't feel that he could put the experience into words. Still, it couldn't hurt to try. "It's quite pleasant for the most part. A little disorienting at times, I'll grant you, especially when D'von thought Phlox was angry with him. There was a fraction of a second when I felt it too—it was just a brief flash, but I felt what the doctor was feeling. I suppose D'von...transmitted it to me." Malcolm grew somber at the memory. "Angry hurts," he mumbled softly.

"Beg pardon?"

"D'von told me that 'angry hurts,'" Reed answered. "And there _was_ a slight sting to it, now that I think about it. Nothing too terrible, though. Rather like a bee sting, or maybe a small electric jolt—unpleasant but not unbearable."

Trip thought a moment. "Better let Phlox know about that. Ah'm _serious_, Malcolm," he added, seeing the dismissive expression on his friend's face. "_Yer_ the tactical expert, always planning for every potential problem. So stop an' _think_ about it for a second: that 'small electric jolt' was from _one_ person gettin' angry for a few _seconds_. What happens when D'von gets a little empathic whiff of the whole crew? We can't all be happy twenty-four hours a day—there _will_ be negative emotions floating around here from time to time. An' I'm pretty sure keepin' the little fella isolated or cooped up indefinitely won't be a viable option. So don'tcha think it _might_ be a good idea to talk to Phlox and get some feedback from him?"

Grudgingly conceding the point with a tip of his head Malcolm started to reply, but was cut off by a delighted feminine shriek.

"Oh you're so a_dor_able!" Hoshi's voice wafted through Sickbay. "And the shirt fits—oh Liz, it looks so nice on him!"

Malcolm's eyes drifted shut as waves of glee washed over him. "Definitely...must discuss this...with Phlox," he mumbled.

D'von's satisfied voice worked its way through, made faint by distance but still distinct. _{Oooo...boootiful Hoomin laydees luvs meee...dis ams __niiice__.}_

_Indeed it is,_ Malcolm agreed, drifting along with the sensation as the child's giggles filled his mind. _Awfully nice._

"Malcolm?" Tucker's concerned voice quietly urged from what seemed a great distance. "You still with me?"

"Sod...off," the lieutenant demanded softly, intent on basking in the pleasure washing over him.

"Come again, Loo-tenant?" Trip's stern voice cut through the mental fog like a plasma torch.

Reed's eyes snapped open, shocked at the realization of what he'd just said. "I'm sorry sir, I—" The apology froze in his throat at the sight of Commander Tucker's smirk.

"_That's_ more like the Malcolm I know. Apology accepted. And you _are_ gonna have that talk with Phlox, _aren't_ you?" Trip asked in a tone that allowed only one response.

"Yes sir. Absolutely." Malcolm couldn't quite banish the embarrassed half-grin from his lips. "The little mite keeps catching me off-guard," he explained. "I'm all right now, though."

"_Sure _you are," Tucker drawled teasingly as he rose from the chair, giving his friend a reassuring clap on the shoulder before quietly sliding the privacy curtain aside enough to catch a glimpse of Liz and Hoshi doting on D'von as Phlox removed the IV lines and small scanner from the youngster. Turning back to Malcolm the engineer put a finger to his lips and motioned the lieutenant to come over. "You gotta see this," he whispered before cautiously pulling the curtain aside further.

The smitten, cooing women were flanking the boy, who was perched on the exam table plainly enjoying every second of the affection he was receiving. They reminded Trip of a group of giddy schoolgirls at the high school prom, and D'von, soaking up the attention like a sponge, was the popular guy trying to decide who to dance with first.

Tucking the scanner in his pocket the doctor placed a fond hand on the boy's shoulder. "I know you're not exactly fond of it," he said, "but I'd like to get some more readings with the imaging chamber."

D'von squirmed uneasily on the exam table, casting his gaze to the floor. _{Dunnint unnerstans why hafsa go in dare. Dunnint __likes__ in dare. Ams not dead.}_

Brow furrowed in puzzlement Malcolm stepped forward, ignoring the others. "D'von? I don't understand. Why would you think—?" He stopped as the boy looked at him.

_{Ams where peeple goes when dey ams dead. Can show yew,}_ he offered. _{Works besser if yew close yore eyes.}_ D'von closed his eyes, a relaxed sigh slipping between his lips.

Malcolm closed his eyes as well, and found himself in a chilly cavern standing a short distance from a honeycombed wall of the cave. The grotto was, he thought, surprisingly well-illuminated, though there were no indications of artificial lighting that he could see. Looking up gave Malcolm an answer as to the light source: a long, wide crack ran along the high ceiling of the chamber, letting in a great deal of sunlight but nothing in the way of warmth. A breeze blowing through the subterranean cathedral added to the chill in the dry, crisp air. After gazing at the slit of turquoise sky for a few moments Malcolm turned his attention back to the wall before him.

There were many hundreds of rough-hewn, evenly spaced holes extending five or six meters up the wall, each hole just over half a meter across. Many of the openings were bricked up with carefully placed rocks, no mortar used to hold them in place; each closed-off hole had a small engraved plaque embedded in the wall over it. A large, intricately carved stone bowl filled with ash and hundreds of incense sticks was perched on carved stone feet, positioned a few feet in front of the wall. After watching the smoke from the incense waft skyward for a moment Malcolm took a halting step toward the wall. A small hand gripped his wrist.

_{I go wiv yew,} _D'von whispered with a reverence suitable to the setting. Allowing himself to be led by the boy Malcolm soon found himself standing at eye level with one of the chambers. Many of the rocks that had once sealed its opening had fallen aside, and D'von dropped his hand away from Malcolm's wrist to pick up a small stone from the cave floor. _{We come from mon-tims, so when we ams dead we go back inna mon-tims. Sometimes dey shake, an' we hafsa come do fixes,} _he added, straining to respectfully place the rock he was holding into the opening but not quite able to reach. Malcolm obligingly lifted the tot, taking the opportunity to take a closer look into the niche as D'von put the rock back in its home. He could see horns and the desiccated remains of a Lehrite occupying the small vault.

There was a momentary sensation of vertigo as the scene shifted and Malcolm, still holding D'von, realized he now seemed to be on a spaceship—decidedly not Enterprise, though. The small room they now occupied, only slightly larger than his own quarters, was softly illuminated with candles, the walls painted with realistic murals of mountainscapes. In the middle of the room stood a small, ash-filled stone bowl on a low table, long sticks of burning incense stuck into the ash and a lit candle firmly planted in the center. The wall they were facing had several rows of holes almost identical to, though smaller than, the opening of the imaging chamber.

_{If sum-fing happens when we're on our ship, dead peeple go here until we can takes dem home,}_ D'von explained, head bobbing toward the only closed cell in what Malcolm could now only think of as a mausoleum.

"Catacombs," Reed said aloud as he opened his eyes, the sweet fragrance of the incense lingering in his nose. "They bury their dead in catacombs," he told the perplexed people staring at him. "And on their ships they have what I assume are stasis chambers that they use temporarily. _That's_ why D'von is so uneasy about going in there, Doctor—it looks like one of their burial chambers. Of course," he continued as he aimed an affectionate stare at the boy, "he _should_ realize by now that it _isn't_ the same thing at all."

D'von shifted on the exam table. _{I know it ams safe,}_ he replied with a bit of a pout. _{Not __fraids__...jus dunnint __likes__ in dare.}_

Perching on the exam table next to his charge Malcolm draped a commiserating arm over D'von's shoulders. "I don't fancy it when I have to go in there either, you know. No one I've ever met enjoys being injured or sick, but it's one of those things we have to endure from time to time. You still require medical attention, and part of that attention entails Dr. Phlox using the imaging chamber. So chin up," he urged, lifting the tot's head with a finger under the bearded chin. "The sooner you go in, the sooner you come out."

D'von gave a resigned, pouty sigh but then the boy's face brightened as an idea occurred to him. _{Ams hun-gree. Can have food naow an' do im-jing fing layder?} _he asked despite knowing that that Mao-kim was on to him.

"I know stalling when I hear it," the lieutenant accused with a grin before turning to explain to the others. "He's not afraid of it—just doesn't like the idea of going in there. And he's trying to delay the inevitable by asking for breakfast first. We'll have to ask Phlox if you can eat yet," he told D'von, "but I'm sure breakfast can wait long enough for you to get scanned."

_{How 'bout drinks? Ams firsty, too. Can haves wadder, please? Do imjing affer drinks?} _D'von inquired with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Water...after...the scan," Malcolm insisted, hard-pressed to keep from chuckling aloud and unable to keep an entirely straight face.

_{Or maybe sleepy snuggles?} _the undaunted boy persisted in an innocent tone. _{Ams tired liddle bits. Do sleepy snuggles for liddle whiles, den do imjing layder, hokay?}_ He stretched his arms out and gave a huge, purely theatrical yawn for good measure.

Malcolm quickly look down at the floor as he battled to keep his composure, clearing his throat to cover a laugh. Features finally smoothed into an impassive façade he fixed his eyes firmly on the tot, struggling to maintain a no-nonsense tone of voice. "Scan first. Then food and water, if Phlox says it's all right. Then a nap. _After_ the scan."

"Wow," Trip teased, "you're _strict_. Won't even let the poor little fella have a glass of water."

Hoshi nodded, joining in. "Yeah...depriving him of food and water isn't fair. Don't you worry, D'von," she comforted, giving the boy a loving pat on the shoulder, "Liz and I will get you something to eat and drink, won't we?" She looked to the nodding crewman for support before fixing a playfully defiant stare on Lt. Reed.

Phlox intervened before Malcolm could form a reply. "The lieutenant is quite correct," he calmly urged. "There are dietary restrictions we need to observe, and I do believe it would be best to get the scans out of the way first. However," he added, retrieving a padd from the nearby counter and scrolling through some information on it, "I do agree that he is probably ready to have some real food. It should be something that won't be too demanding on his digestive system and it _must_ be vegetarian in nature. Any suggestions?"

"When I've been feelin' under the weather I usually go for scrambled eggs, but those aren't vegetarian," Trip said. "Maybe just some toast, with a little cinnamon sugar?"

"Doesn't sound very substantial," Liz observed. "There's no telling when his last meal was...but I guess toast _would_ be a good start."

"Oatmeal," Malcolm and Hoshi said simultaneously, then shot startled looks at each other.

"With a little brown sugar?" the ensign ventured.

Malcolm nodded. "And a splash of milk, of course," he added, relieved to see Hoshi's head bob in agreement.

The doctor grinned his approval. "That should do quite nicely. Crewman Cutler, would it be an inconvenience for you to bring our young friend a small bowl of oatmeal and some toast from the Mess Hall? I'll contact Chef to make certain he has it ready."

"I kin get it, if ya want," Trip volunteered. "I don't hafta be in Engineering for a while yet—I'll bring D'von's stuff back here, an' that way Liz can get some breakfast for herself. That work for you?" he asked the crewman.

"That would be great, if you're sure it's not a bother," Cutler replied.

"Nah...I figure you've earned a break, especially after that warp-speed potty trip you made with the little guy. So I'll go with ya to the Mess Hall an' bring D'von's breakfast back here." He looked at the lieutenant with a grin. "An' I _guess_ I could bring somethin' for you, too," he teased. "What'llya have?"

"You're much too kind, Commander," Malcolm returned the jesting attitude before offering a serious reply. "The same as D'von, I think. And maybe a fruit cup if there's one available." He looked down at the boy, who happily nodded in agreement.

"Maybe D'von could have some fruit, too?" Hoshi asked the doctor.

"That would be fine," Phlox agreed, entering information into the padd before handing it to Liz. "If you would be so kind as to give this to Chef I would appreciate it. If he has any questions he should contact me so we can discuss Lehrite dietary restrictions in greater detail."

"Sure thing, Phlox," Liz replied as she tucked the padd into her pocket and headed for the door, Trip hot on her heels.

"An' don't you worry, little fella," the engineer assured D'von, "yer Uncle Trip'll be back here with yer breakfast in no time."

"Uncle Trip?" Malcolm commented with an incredulous squeak as the doors slid shut, mental giggles from D'von tickling his mind.

_{Ahn-klah?}_

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Once in the corridor Trip gently seized the crewman's arm. "Listen," he said softly, "I gotta make a quick run to my quarters, so you go on ahead to the Mess Hall an' wait for me there, okay?"

Liz gave him a dubious look. "What are you up to?"

"I'm not up ta anything," he tried to convince her, giving a furtive glance at the doors to Sickbay before guiding Cutler down the corridor. "I just...well, I forgot somethin', that's all." Seeing the suspicion still lingering in her eyes, he confessed. "Okay, here's tha thing—when we were in Decon I was wishin' I had my camera, 'cuz tha little guy's so damned cute, right?" That earned him a nod from the woman. "But then this whole Joining thing happened," he continued, "an' I was too worried about Malcolm to think much about takin' pictures. But now that the doc's so sure that Malcolm's not in any danger, an' D'von's doin' better—"

"You want to go get your camera," Liz finished for him, sounding slightly miffed. "And you used coming with me as an excuse to get back into Sickbay and snap off a few frames. The fact that you're not _really_ doing this to be helpful doesn't even matter to you, does it? You probably don't even care whether I get any breakfast or not," she added indignantly, stopping in the middle of the corridor and folding her arms across her chest.

"I didn't mean it like that," Trip tried to apologize, looking like a scolded puppy. "I just figured if I offered ta bring the food to Sickbay it would save you the trip back here, plus I could..." His voice trailed off as he saw the playful gleam in her eyes, and he gave a sigh of relief. "You had me goin' for a minute, there. So you'll wait for me, right?"

Cutler chuckled as she nodded, then grew momentarily serious. "Two conditions: One, if you get in trouble for this, you take the fall _alone_."

"Fair enough. What's the second condition?"

Liz grinned broadly. "I'm the first one to get copies."

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

D'von looked up at Malcolm with an impish little grin and innocent mischief in his eyes. _{Food layder, an' drinks layder, an' naps layder. Hokay. But...can do mung a'fore imjing? Pleeease?}_ Head canting to one side the boy batted his long eyelashes at the man.

Reed had been fully prepared to once again deny the boy's request but was stopped short by the peculiar word. He didn't suppose he could well refuse something if he didn't know what it was, and couldn't come up with any potential English word that the boy might have been trying for. "I'm not sure," Malcolm answered. "What's mung?" He cast a glance at Hoshi and Phlox but could tell by their expressions that they didn't know either. Besides, after the way he'd bellowed earlier he'd be lucky if Hoshi ever translated anything for him again. Lehrite giggles filled his mind.

_{Mung ams...mung,} _D'von replied, simultaneously amused and puzzled that he had to explain the concept. _{Ams cuddle-snuggle-huggy-luvvies. We do mung furst, den imjing, hokay?}_

Well, he could hardly deny the boy some cuddle-snuggle-huggy-luvvies. Or rather, he knew he'd never hear the end of it if he did, either from Trip or Hoshi.

Or maybe from D'von, who was even now merrily singsonging into his brain. _{Mung, mung, mungmungmung, mung, mung, mungmungmung, mung, mung, mungmung—}_

Malcolm nodded, chuckling as he conceded defeat. "All right, we'll do mung. But then it's into the imjing—um, imaging chamber, understand?"

Eagerly reaching to wrap his arms around Malcolm's neck D'von grinned victoriously as he climbed onto the lieutenant's lap. Reed wrapped his arms around the tot and pulled him close, luxuriating in the ecstatic snickers and intoxicating euphoria flowing from the boy's mind and through his own as D'von clung to him and nuzzled his neck. After indulging the boy—and himself—for a few blissful moments Malcolm gently pried the boy loose. "Ready now?"

_{Nuh-uh,} _D'von answered teasingly before planting a long kiss on Malcolm's cheek and rubbing noses with the man. Meeting the lieutenant's gaze with another lopsided grin D'von gave a crisp nod. _{Hokay. __Naow__ ams ready for imjing.} _His eyes remained on Malcolm's face as the lieutenant stood up and situated him on the exam table. Once he'd laid down, though, the boy spared a glance first at Phlox then a longer look at Hoshi. Studying her face, D'von's features clouded with puzzlement and he turned his attention back to Reed. _{Can ax question, please? Why ams bootiful Hoomin laydee wiv long hair nervous at yew?}_

When he risked a self-conscious glimpse at the ensign Malcolm felt it, too, though as with the doctor's anger it lasted only an instant: Hoshi had a severe case of butterflies in her stomach. _I think it's because we had a little misunderstanding earlier,_ he thought to the lad, not wanting the others to hear. _While you're in the imaging chamber I'll have a talk with her so she won't be nervous any more._

_{Dat would be a good fing,}_ D'von agreed, _{'cuz she ams niiice.}_ After thinking about it for a few seconds the boy's brow furrowed in confusion. _{Why cannint she hear me in her mind? Udder Hoomin laydee cunnint hear me, ee-vur. Whycome yore herd cannint hear me? I ams Joinded wiv yew, so dey should hear me naow, right? Dare ams sumfing wrong?}_

"That may take some time to explain," Malcolm said softly. "Let's get you finished here first, all right? We can talk about it in more detail after we've had our breakfast."

All traces of concern and confusion faded from the boy's face. _{Hokay.}_ But a sudden panic came over him and he gripped Malcolm's hand with a gasp. _{She gave me a priddy shirt an' I dinnint give anyfing back! Will hafsa return da shirt! An' da udder laydee hewped wiv goddago an' I dinnint do anyfing back for her—hafsa do sumfing back for dem, Mao-kim!}_

Malcolm gave the boy's hand a few soothing pats, nudging aside the emotion coming from the tot. "Don't worry yourself about that right now. We'll find out what they'd like later. Right now Phlox is waiting to start your scan, so let's get to it, shall we?" His concerns allayed D'von nodded, closing his eyes and easing his hand out of Malcolm's tender grip as the table slid into the chamber.

As the door closed the lieutenant spared a glance at the others, noting Hoshi's nervous, puzzled expression and the doctor's barely-suppressed grin. "He wants to repay you for the shirt," he told the ensign, "and Ensign Cutler for assisting him earlier. You might want to be thinking about what you'd like."

Nonplussed, Hoshi stayed silent and slack-jawed for several seconds. "He doesn't need to repay me," she at last replied. "I was happy to give it to him. And Liz enjoyed helping him, I'm sure."

"Well, you'd best think of something anyhow," Reed suggested. "He thinks he'll have to give the shirt back if he doesn't compensate you somehow." Turning his attention to Phlox, Malcolm continued. "I'm sure it will occur to him at some point that he'll need to repay you for all you've done, as well."

Phlox nodded. "Of course. I'm sure we can come up with something." He turned to Hoshi. "Lehrite social mores dictate repayment for services rendered, Ensign, no matter how trivial or unimportant those services may seem. Rest assured, payment doesn't have to be extravagant but he will insist upon doing _something_. And as I understand it, he _will _return the shirt if he can't reimburse you somehow—Lehrites worry about accusations of thievery if they don't reciprocate for such things." Returning his full attention to the readouts Phlox shook his head in wonder. "Amazing...his injuries are healing at a remarkable pace. If it continues at its present rate he should be walking unassisted in a few days, and perhaps talking by tomorrow morning. I believe that is due to you, Lieutenant. His ability to draw energy from you has no doubt helped accelerate the recovery process. Quite remarkable," he murmured under his breath, mesmerized by the readings before him. He took no notice as Malcolm tapped Hoshi's shoulder.

"Ensign," Malcolm said softly, "I'd like to have a word with you, if I may." He didn't need D'von to tell him how nervous Hoshi was now.

Swallowing hard, she nodded and followed him as he walked back toward the biobeds. "I'm _soo_ sorry, sir. I really thought I had the meaning right on that phrase. There wasn't any direct translation but from the information I had—"

Malcolm cut her off with a raised hand. "Please, don't," he said sympathetically. "You did the best you could with the available information, and I truly appreciate it. You certainly don't owe anyone any apologies, least of all me. In fact, _I'm _the one who should be apologizing. Phlox told me that he was on the comm with you when I awoke earlier, and that you heard me yelling."

"Yes sir," Hoshi nodded, perplexed at the turn of events. "And from what I've heard you had every right to be angry; I thought I was helping you calm him down and instead I had you tell him God-knows-what—"

"That's just it, Hoshi," Malcolm assured her, "it _did_ calm him down. Granted, I still don't know what it means, but it _worked_, and as far as I'm concerned there was no harm done. I just wanted you to know that, when I shouted like that, I wasn't _angry_. Flustered, confused, and a tad scared, yes...but not angry. Well...not too much, anyhow." he added with a sheepish grin.

Phlox's voice cut off any reply from Ensign Sato. "When I'm finished with D'von I'd like to do a scan of you, too, Lieutenant, hmm?" he called out casually.

The automatic protest died on his lips—what message would that send to the lad, after all?—and Malcolm found himself nodding his assent. "Yes, of course. But do you suppose I could slip back to my quarters after breakfast? I'd like to get a change of clothing, and I'm in desperate need of showering."

The doctor gave an amused chuckle. "Depending on the results of your scan it should be all right...if D'von approves, that is. He may not want you getting that far away from him just yet."

"I'll be sure to clear it with him first," the lieutenant quipped, stepping back toward the imaging chamber as the doctor concluded the scan. He chuckled as the Lehrite-laden table trundled out of the chamber: D'von's eyes were squeezed tightly shut, his whole muzzle scrunched up as if fending off a great stench or bitter taste.

_{Dunnint __likes__ in here. Wanda be wiv Mao-kim,}_ the boy's displeasure nibbled at Malcolm's mind, his pouty voice little more than a whisper. _{Been imjing for. __EVER__. Wanda haves drinks an' sleepy snuggles, an' more mungmung...}_

Bending over the lad Malcolm gently rubbed his nose against the tip of D'von's muzzle. "All finished," he purred. "Shall we get that drink now?"

Snapping open, D'von's eyes sparkled with delight. _{Ams dun?} _he asked happily, the glee pouring from him and washing over the lieutenant.

"Yes, you're done...and you did very well," Malcolm told him, helping the tot sit up. "Dr. Phlox wants to scan me, too, so once I get you back to bed and fetch you a drink I'll have to leave you for a few minutes." Malcolm blinked in surprise as fresh fear and trepidation slammed into his mind.

_{But...yew gunda come back...riiight?}_ D'von's timid whisper came back, his eyes huge and ears drooping.

"Of course," Reed assured him. "Besides, I'm only going to be just across the room from you, you know."

A flush of embarrassment came from the boy. _{Oh. Right. Yew gunda be here,}_ he confirmed, patting on the exam table.

"Right. And you'll be just over there," Malcolm pointed to the biobed. _Their_ biobed. "Hopefully Commander Tucker will be back with our food by the time I'm done and we can have breakfast—"

_{An' sleepy snuggles?} _D'von's ears perked up hopefully. _{Yew sed after imjing I do eats an' drinks __an'__ sleepy snuggles, right?}_

"Indeed I did," the lieutenant confirmed as he lifted the boy. "If breakfast hasn't arrived by the time Dr. Phlox is done with me we'll do sleepy snuggles then. For right now, though, let's get that drink, shall we?" Malcolm suggested as he carried D'von back to bed.

_{Dat would be...awe-flee nice,} _the lad grinned at him before joyously nuzzling the man's neck.

Casting a quick look at the others, the lieutenant offered a brief explanation. "Just going to get him settled in and get a drink for him, then I'll be back over for my scan."

Watching Reed tending to the little boy, Phlox and Hoshi exchanged amused looks before the doctor set about preparing the imaging chamber for the next patient.

"I never imagined he'd be so _cute_," Hoshi confided as she stepped closer to the Denobulan.

"Phlox chuckled. "Nor did I," he agreed. "D'von is quite adorable as well."

Hoshi clapped her hands over her mouth to capture her laughter. "You're _wicked_," she finally managed to giggle at him. The doctor's reply was a wordless, mirthful grin and a nod. Hoshi let a few moments pass before pulling a padd from her pocket. "I didn't want to mention it in front of D'von or Malcolm," she said, growing serious, "but you got a reply to the message you sent. I'm afraid it's not exactly good news," she added as she handed the device to Phlox.

He studied first her face then the padd, puzzled by her dampened spirit. The Denobulan's expression morphed into stunned surprise as he finished reading the message. "Well I didn't anticipate anything like _this_," he said.

"Didn't anticipate what?" Malcolm's voice interrupted from behind them. "Have you found something amiss with D'von's scan?"

"No no, nothing like that," Phlox assured him. "I sent a message to a friend of mine in the Denobulan Diplomatic Corps, hoping she could contact the Lehrite government on our behalf. According to her reply, however, Lehrites _have_ no government."

"But that's impossible," Malcolm replied. "They must have _some_ sort of government—how else could they get anything done, or enforce their laws? How do they maintain order?"

Phlox gave a shrug. "It isn't entirely unheard of for a society to have little or nothing in the way of an organized government, though Lehrites are no doubt a far more peaceful example of such a society. And they probably don't need many laws, if any. They're _empaths_," he reminded Reed and Sato. "Any harm they inflict upon someone else they themselves would experience as well. Would you really need a law to tell you to not cause injury to another if you would literally feel the pain you inflicted?"

"I suppose not," Malcolm conceded.

Hoshi still looked doubtful. "But wouldn't they need _some _sort of bureaucracy or infrastructure, or _something_, in order to have developed space travel?"

"Perhaps they did have one," Phlox offered, "but once they were out here they no longer needed it. Or they may have simply—you'll pardon the expression, Lieutenant—joined forces and worked together toward a common, mutually beneficial goal. There could even have been outside influences: just because Vulcans strive to avoid 'cultural contamination', that doesn't mean someone _else_ didn't lend a helping hand, you know. Now Lieutenant, if you would be so kind?" The doctor motioned to the exam table. "If you don't mind, Ensign Sato, I'd like you to send a brief reply—can you stay a few more moments?"

"Of course," Hoshi nodded.

Seeing Malcolm's deflated appearance Phlox gave him an encouraging clap on the shoulder, as he'd seen other crewmembers do with one another. "No need to worry, Lieutenant. This shouldn't take very long."

"It's not that," Reed insisted as he laid down. "It's just that...if there's no Lehrite government we can contact, how in the world are we going to find this boy's family?"

"Don't give up just yet," the Denobulan encouraged. "There may be no _government_, but Lehrites still have ships out there. My friend assures me that she will continue attempting to make contact and will convey news of D'von's situation to any Lehrites she is able to locate. Optimism, Mr. Reed!" Phlox urged before sending the exam table into the chamber.

After initiating the scan Phlox tapped out a short message on the padd then handed it to Hoshi. "Thank you so much, Ensign. If you could send this at your earliest convenience?"

"Sure thing, Doctor. I'll send it out as soon as I get back to the Bridge," she assured him as she headed for the door. Hesitating she turned back and went to the biobed, smiling at D'von. "I have to leave now," she told him softly. "It was wonderful to meet you."

Bashfully, D'von grinned back at her as Hoshi snugged the blanket up under his chin. _{Ams wunnerful meeting yew, too. An' ams glad yew am-int nervous at Mao-Kim endee-more.}_

After placing a tender kiss on the boy's forehead Hoshi affectionately stroked his cheek, smiling as she looked at him. "You have the most beautiful eyes," she said.

D'von's grin broadened as his fingertips brushed lightly against Hoshi's cheek. _{We gunda do Joinding naow? Dat's good,'cuz den yew can hears me.}_

"Ensign Sato," the doctor's calm but urgent voice interrupted, "could I speak with you for a moment please?" Hoshi stepped away from the bed, giving a smile and a wave before walking away.

D'von returned the wave with a tiny waggle of his fingertips. _{Bai,} _he said with a mingled sigh of contentment and disappointment. _{Sorry Joinding got inderrup-sed. But we try again layder, hokay?} _Yawning broadly he curled up on his side and snuggled under the blanket, contentedly dozing off as the doctor spoke with Hoshi.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Perched on the edge of the bed, Malcolm gently rubbed the back of the sleeping tot's head. "You're quite certain?" he asked, looking up at the doctor.

With a faint smile, Phlox nodded. "I was able to call Ensign Sato away before the contact was completed. No harm done."

"_This_ time," Malcolm replied, looking down at the slumbering child. "I'd hoped to have a little more time to contemplate how to explain things to him. But I guess my time is fast running out—before he went into the imaging chamber D'von asked me why no one else could hear him."

"What did you tell him?"

"I wasn't quite sure _what_ to say, so I stalled—told him it would take some time to explain and that we'd discuss it after breakfast."

Phlox nodded in approval. "I think that was the best approach. And it might be better to not make _too_ much of his encounter with Ensign Sato. From what she told me I believe she inadvertently initiated contact, much as you did. Now, since breakfast hasn't arrived yet perhaps you should get a little rest as well, hmm?" Seeing the man's listless nod, Phlox took pity on him. "I know you said you would do it, but if you've changed you mind I can speak with him about it."

"No," Reed pronounced with soft determination, still stroking D'von's head. "I should be the one to do it. I just have to figure out how to phrase things without upsetting him too much. But thank you for the offer," he added gratefully before climbing gingerly under the blanket next to the tot. "When you put together the information for the crew," he advised, "it would probably be wise to tell people how to avoid inadvertently Joining with him, in case I'm less than successful in explaining that he mustn't do it anymore."

"An excellent suggestion in light of recent events," Phlox agreed. "I believe I have enough information to be helpful to the crew, but to be honest I haven't determined how to ensure that everyone actually reads it once it's distributed."

"Ask Captain Archer to make it mandatory," Reed suggested matter-of-factly.

The doctor looked surprised then pleased at the advice. "I believe I shall do precisely that," he replied happily. Noticing the pensive look that had slowly come over the lieutenant's face, the doctor looked at him quizzically. "Is everything all right?"

"It's just that there's something I've been putting off telling you. After the first scan you took of D'von, you became angry—justifiably so—at the people who hurt him. I suppose it goes without saying that D'von felt it, but...well...so did I. Only for an instant," he added hurriedly, "and it wasn't anything unbearable, but I _did_ feel it. I suspect that D'von transmitted it to me, if that makes any sense."

Phlox's head bobbed in agreement and understanding. "It makes a great deal of sense, and it _was_ rather obvious that you were experiencing something out of the ordinary. I appreciate you telling me, though. If anything similar happens," he started, but was stopped by the amused but slightly embarrassed expression on Malcolm's face.

"Well...if the truth be known," Reed confessed, "when the ladies were with D'von earlier, the sensation was quite...intense. And extremely pleasant. And, for a few seconds, very disorienting. But mostly pleasant."

Phlox chuckled softly. "I imagine it was _quite_ pleasant, judging from D'von's reaction to their attention. Did you have any difficulty overcoming the sensation?"

Lips pursed in thought, Malcolm shook his head. "Not really. Commander Tucker helped to refocus my attention," he admitted, "but I'm sure I would have been alright even without his help. And I was fine afterward." He could tell from the look in the Denobulan's eyes that Phlox didn't believe that any more than Trip had. Indeed, Malcolm hadn't entirely convinced _himself_ of it.

The doctor didn't give voice to his doubt, though. "In the short time I've known you, I have found you to be a very strong-willed individual," he said, meaning it to be—for the most part—a compliment. "Given a little more time I'm certain that you'll learn to anticipate and compensate for such episodes. Now, you should rest a bit while I try to track down your breakfast. Commander Tucker should have been here by now, so I suspect that perhaps Chef is annoyed at the idea of special orders. But I _would_ like to discuss these sensations in more detail later, hmm?"

"Of course." He suspected he wouldn't really be given a choice in the matter, anyhow, so there was little point in arguing.

Listening to Phlox walk away, Malcolm shifted until he was on his side, cautiously fidgeting himself into a reasonably comfortable "sleepy snuggle" position without disturbing D'von. He marveled at how soundly the boy slept then remembered what the doctor had said about the energy exchanges that had apparently occurred. If D'von had been drawing energy from him it would explain his own earlier bouts of grogginess; if the lad had expended or returned a good deal of it then it was little wonder he remained asleep despite the adult jostling about in bed next to him. Tucking one arm beneath his head, Malcolm wrapped the other around the boy's midriff and delicately pulled D'von close before closing his eyes and letting sleep come.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

_{Hai!}_ D'von excitedly greeted him while climbing onto his lap. Letting the gloriously warm emotions wash over him as D'von hugged and nuzzled him, Malcolm wrapped his arms around the boy and serenely took in his surroundings. They were again sitting on the bench in Decon but this was the first time he'd noticed how huge the room seemed. It took a moment for him to make sense of it: he was seeing their surroundings as D'von did, so of course the room appeared larger than it actually was.

_Hello,_ Malcolm replied after a few seconds, remembering his first mental conversation with the lad when he'd been admonished to "say hai backs." Joy, love, and pleasure swirled delightfully in his mind while happy humming, mewing sounds from D'von filled his ears. Following the most enjoyable eternity Malcolm had ever experienced the boy gave a long, satisfied sigh, ceasing his affectionate nuzzling of the man's neck and sliding slowly back down onto the bench beside the lieutenant.

Leaning his back against the man, D'von tipped his head back and gave a lopsided grin as their eyes met. _{Ams gunda haves food soon?}_ he asked hopefully, rubbing his tummy for emphasis. _{Ams hun-gree.}_

_As am I. Commander Tucker hasn't returned yet, but I'm sure he'll be back with our food very soon,_ he assured the boy. _Dr. Phlox is checking on it for us, so we shouldn't need to wait much longer._

_{Hokay,}_ D'von chirped, accepting Malcolm's words without reservation. Squirming on the bench he nestled himself against the man and closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

Malcolm settled in as well, draping an arm across the boy and letting the lad's tranquil satisfaction soak into him. Resolving to stick with his original plan to speak with D'von after breakfast he quickly pushed aside thoughts of the conversation he'd soon be having with his charge. Too late he realized that he hadn't pushed them aside quickly enough: the feelings emanating from the Lehrite had subtly but distinctly changed. Looking down at D'von, he found those golden eyes gazing up at him with perplexed trepidation.

_{Sumfing ams...wrong?}_

_No. No, nothing's wrong, I...I just..._ Reed stammered as he momentarily cast his gaze to the floor._ It's just that...I need to speak with you about something._ Time to take the bull by the horns, he supposed, taking a deep breath to steady himself before looking D'von in the eye again.

The boy was decidedly worried now, and had reached up to shield his horns with his hands. _{Yew gunda take my __horns__?}_

_Goodness, no! That's just...it's a figure of speak, luv. No one is going to take your horns._

The boy looked slightly less worried as his hands drifted cautiously away from his horns and onto his lap. _{Finks I dunnint __likes__ dat figger-a-speech.}_

_It just means that there's something I have to do and I need to get to it and not put it off any longer,_ Malcolm tried to explain. D'von's uncertainty and worry gnawed at the edges of his mind, doing little to help his concentration. With another deep breath he gathered his thoughts before starting again. _I have to talk to you about something important, and I'm a bit concerned about how to go about it. That's probably why it feels as though something is wrong. But everything is fine and there is nothing for you to be worried about, okay?_

_{Ho...hokay,} _D'von answered dubiously with uncertain eyes still locked on Malcolm. _{Ams really im-por-nant?} _Malcolm gave a smile and a nod. _{Ams serious, huh?}_

_Yes, I suppose you could say that._

D'von shifted about on the bench until his legs were straddling the seat and he was facing the lieutenant. Once he'd gotten settled he again looked up at Malcolm. Most of the uncertainty had dissipated, replaced by puzzlement and curiosity. _{Ams lis-ning,}_ he assured the man with a tone of intense concentration.

_Right then._ Reed held his breath a moment then exhaled slowly as he decided how to begin. _Do you remember earlier, when you asked why the others couldn't hear you in their minds?_

_{Ya-huh. Yew sed we could talk 'bouts it affer brefass.}_

_That's right. But since breakfast has been delayed, maybe we should discuss it now. Now, you already know that Humans and Lehrites are a bit different from one another—for example, Humans have toes and feet rather than hooves, and we don't have horns._

_{Dass hokay—yew ams still __very__ priddy.}_

_Thank you,_ Malcolm replied with a surprised smile, momentarily thrown off his stride by the compliment. _Um, yes...back to it then. There are some things that are the same, and some that are different. And one of the differences has to do with Joining. You see D'von...Humans don't have the same sort of abilities that Lehrites do. We can't feel what others are feeling, and we don't have the ability to Join with one another the way Lehrites can._

That definitely had the boy confounded. _{Yew dunnint do Joinding?}_ Malcolm shook his head. _{Never?}_

_Never._

_{But...but,}_ D'von tried to puzzle it out, _{how do yew know what the ress of yore herd ams finking, or feeling? How do yew lissen to each uver?}_

_Well...we just communicate those things with one another __differently__ than Lehrites do._

There was a long silence as the boy thought about that. _{If Hoomins dunnint do Joinding wiv each udders,}_ D'von pondered, _{whycome yew Joinded wiv me?}_

_Well...I fear that happened quite by accident. You see—_

_{Cannint do Joinding by axdent,}_ D'von protested before realizing that he'd interrupted. He offered a bashful, apologetic smile. _{Oopsorry. Not posta innderup.}_

_Apology accepted,_ Reed assured him._ Now, from what Dr. Phlox has told me, when I was trying to help you calm down the first time he wanted you to go in the imaging chamber, I gave you permission to Join with me when I put my hands on your face._

_{Ya-huh...dass right. Yew holded my face, an' I was happy 'cuz yew wanded to do Joinding. So I holded yore face too, an' den we Joinded.}_ Fixing a perplexed stare on the lieutenant D'von considered the man's words a long while before comprehension and dismay crossed his face. He cautiously slid away from Malcolm. _{Yew...yew dinnint wanda do Joinding?}_ At Malcolm's tiny headshake D'von slid to the end of the bench and hurried to the corner of the room, huddling on the floor with his arms covering his head. _{Dis ams bad, badbadbad.}_

Malcolm cautiously followed, wishing he didn't feel as though he'd simultaneously kicked a puppy and been the puppy being kicked. _D'von, please listen to me. __Please__._ He knelt next to the boy. _It's all right. Look at me, please?_ Lowering his arms D'von lifted his head and stayed perfectly still as Malcolm wiped tears from his fuzzy cheeks. _It wasn't __bad__, D'von, it was just...unexpected. I didn't know anything about Lehrites, I hadn't ever heard of them, or seen one before I met you. Not even a picture of one. And I didn't know about Joining, or that I'd given you permission to do it, until after it was done. I thought I was just helping keep you calm so Phlox could get you into the imaging chamber and take care of you. I didn't know that holding your face like that was the same as telling you to Join with me. For us, that kind of touching is meant as a display of affection, or a way to offer comfort. You didn't do anything wrong, D'von, you did what you thought you were __supposed__ to do._

_{Not posta do Joinding wivout permission,}_ the tot moaned. _{Ams very very __very__ bad fing.}_

Malcolm gently gripped the boy's shoulders._ But you thought you __had__ been given permission, remember? And I'm the one who gave you permission...I just didn't know that at the time. It was simply a misunderstanding, and there's been no harm done._ He was relieved to feel some of the boy's guilt and anxiety fading, and hugged D'von as he took a moment to gather his thoughts. Planting a kiss firmly on the boy's forehead Malcolm relaxed his grip and looked him in the eyes. _Let's go sit back on the bench...it's a bit more comfortable than being all scrunched up on the floor, don't you think?_

A hesitant smile finally found its way to D'von's face, and he gave a nod. _{Hokay.}_ He wrapped his arms around Malcolm's neck as the man lifted him from the floor, loosing his grip when he felt the bench under his bottom and soberly staring at the floor while the lieutenant settled in next to him. At last he looked up. _{Mao-kim...can ax question?}_

_Of course._

_{When yew was doin' imjing da Hoomin laydee—da one dat gave me da shirt?—came to tell me bai, an' I started ta do Joinding wiv her 'cuz I thought she wanded me to.}_ D'von paused as he considered what had happened with Hoshi. _{But...she wasn't tryin' ta do Joinding, was she?} _

_No, she wasn't,_ Malcolm answered gently.

_{Oh...hokay.}_ There was another, painfully long silence, uncertainty flowing from the boy and lapping at Malcolm's mind. _{Do yew fink dat...she will still wanda be frens wiv me? Or ams she gunda be...end-gree?}_

Reed wrapped a comforting arm around D'von's shoulders, pulling him close. _Dr. Phlox explained Joining to Ensign Sato. He also told me what happened, and he said that Hoshi wasn't at all angry about it. I'm quite certain that she still very much wants to be your friend._ The tot heaved a huge sigh, relief washing away the last vestiges of melancholy and trepidation. Leaning against the lieutenant he wrapped his arms around Malcolm's waist to return the hug._ There is something else, D'von,_ Malcolm said, still embracing the youth. _Something very important. I need you to remember that Humans don't do Joining—we're not really designed to do it—so you need to promise that you won't Join with anyone else on board, all right? Not even if you think they've given you permission. Do you understand?_

D'von looked up with adoration. _{Ya-huh. Unnerstans...no Joinding wiv endy-buddy else on da ship. Hokay good.}_ Tightening his grip, he happily leaned his head against Malcolm's midsection.

As the two embraced, adoration and ecstasy swirling powerfully through his mind, it occurred to the lieutenant that part of him wouldn't mind staying here for the rest of his life.


	12. Chapter 12

Squeezing his eyes shut against another flash of light, he wearily sucked his thumb and rubbed at the bandage on his throat as he tried to go back to sleep. He knew there was no threat—he could feel amused pleasure from whoever had approached the bed as well as tickles of mirth from someone else nearby—but D'von was more interested in continuing his sleepy snuggles with Mao-kim than in seeing who was there. When he could no longer ignore the presence, he opened his eyes just enough to look into the sparkling blue eyes looking back at him over the top of a strange little grey box.

"Hey there little fella," Trip whispered, lowering his camera. "Remember me?" The tot nodded slowly and the engineer's smile broadened. "Yeah...you wouldn't forget yer ol' Uncle Trip, would ya?" Seeing D'von's attention drift to the camera Tucker casually hefted the device. "It's okay," he softly assured the youth, who was now wide awake and obviously intrigued. "It's a camera. I'm just takin' a few pictures. Doesn't hurt a bit. Here...lemme show ya." Stepping back he adjusted the setting on the camera before snapping another picture of D'von and the still-dozing Lt. Reed. "See there? Nothin' to it," Trip whispered as he looked over the top of the camera. Stepping closer he turned the camera to show the boy the picture on the display screen. "An' that's what the picture will look like when I print it up. Okay if I take another one?"

Nodding without hesitation D'von took his thumb from his mouth and carefully pushed himself up in the bed until the top of his head was snuggled up under Malcolm's chin, his horns nicely framing either side of the lieutenant's jaw. A faint, pretty smile spread across the child's face, reminding the engineer of the Mona Lisa.

"That's _perfect_," Trip grinned as he raised the camera. Sleepy grey eyes slid halfway open and stared at him through the viewfinder.

"Commandah...Don't. You—" _click/flash_ "_Dare_." Reed's murmured protest came too late.

Tucker's grin only widened. "D'von _said_ I could," he declared smugly, drawing a sigh of resignation from his friend.

_{Ams hokay, Mao-kim. Ahnklah Tip ams jus' takin' a few pitchers,}_ the chipper tot explained with a giggle. _{Dunnint hurt. Nufin' to it.}_

Something about the word 'uncle' (or 'ahnklah') was very entertaining to the boy; it made D'von giggle every time he heard or said it. Between that and what were certainly mimicked words of comfort from the commander Malcolm couldn't hold back the chuckle that was building up in him. "Tell me something, _Ahnklah Tip," _he teased, now fully awake. "Did you happen to remember to bring D'von's breakfast? Or were you too preoccupied with fetching your photography equipment?"

"Ahnklah Tip, huh? Guess that's close enough, _Ahnklah _Malcolm," Trip said as he snapped another picture. "An' I'll have you know I didn't forget your breakfast. Didn't take any time at all to grab my camera an' meet up with Liz an' Chef. What took so long was that everybody I met up with wanted to know about the little guy—some of 'em even wanted to come with me to meet him, but I told them we should give him a little breathin' room 'til he gets used to the place." He beamed at D'von. "You're quite a celebrity, ya know," he told him with a wink. "Folks can hardly wait to meet you. An' Chef is rarin' ta go, ready to whip up a bunch of vegetarian stuff for ya."

"The doctor thought perhaps Chef would be upset about having to make special dishes for D'von."

Tucker shook his head. "Naaah. Just the opposite—told me he's lookin' forward to stretching his culinary wings. He's already going through recipes, figuring out substitutions an' stuff. Only thing he's fretting about is that he has to run the ingredient lists past Phlox. You know how Chef is about guarding his recipes...makes me wonder sometimes if he's maybe related to you," he chuckled. Looking at D'von, Trip noticed that the boy's eyes were closed again. "I think he's gone back to sleep," he whispered.

Though he wasn't entirely sure how he was doing it, Reed found himself 'listening' to D'von. "No, he's just...relaxing."

"Soakin' up some happy thoughts?"

"Yes, something like that. If you've finished with your impromptu photo shoot, though, I'm sure he would very much like to have his breakfast."

Golden eyes snapping open, D'von's smile broadened as he looked at the engineer. _{Would like veryvery__very__ much,}_ he agreed as he and Malcolm sat up on the edge of the bed.

Looping the camera strap around his neck with a nod, Trip first moved the bedside table in front of the hungry duo then retrieved the wheeled service cart from where he'd parked it at the foot of the bed. Placing the large food tray in front of them he remove the two domed covers with a flourish. "Breakfast is served, gentlemen," he drawled pleasantly. "Toast with cinnamon sugar, oatmeal with just a dash of brown sugar and milk, and fruit cups. For Mr. Reed's beverage we have hot tea, and for Mr. D'von, four ounces of Chef's very own special blend...freshly made peach-mango nectar. If you need more of that just let Chef know," he told the boy in a conspiratorial tone. "An' he made sure to use insulated containers ta help keep everything at just the right temperature." Both men grinned at the tiny sniffing and lip-licking noises that D'von was making.

_{Dunno what ams dat stuff, but smells wunnerful,}_ D'von observed, lowering his head over the meal and sniffling hungrily. _{Mush besser dan on da bad ship. Food dare was poy-zin.}_

Taken aback, Malcolm exchanged looks with Trip then looked back to D'von. "What do you mean, the food on the bad ship was poison? They gave you things you couldn't eat?"

D'von shifted about uneasily as he stared at the floor. _{Shunint says 'bout bad ship. Made yew sad. Not talks 'bout dem endymores, I promise.}_

"You don't have to talk about them if you don't want to," Malcolm assured the lad, placing a comforting hand on the tot's shoulder, "but if you _do_ want to, then go ahead. I'll be fine." He gave D'von a moment to think before continuing. "Dr. Phlox told us that there are certain foods you can't eat—perhaps the people from the other ship didn't know that."

The boy fixed a somber stare on the lieutenant. _{Dey knew. Da bad man put fings in da food to make it poyzin, but it smelled very much awfuls, so cunnint do eats.}_ He turned his attention back to the floor, melancholy radiating from him.

Struggling against the dark sensations pouring into him, Malcolm cast a quick glance at the stunned commander and gathered himself before speaking, gently hugging D'von across the shoulders as he comforted the boy. "It must have been terrible for you...but the bad man apparently didn't think you'd be smart enough to know he'd tainted the food. I think you were far more clever than he was. And you were very strong, too."

_{Yew fink I ams strong?} _D'von asked disbelievingly as his eyes met Malcolm's, the darkness lifting a bit. _{But...I ams too liddle to be strong.}__  
_  
"Utter nonsense," Reed confidently dismissed the boy's doubts before turning to the engineer. "I believe I need your assistance, Commander Tucker. This lad claims he's too small to be strong, and I thought we might get your opinion on that."

Frowning thoughtfully as he placed the covers back on the food, Trip perched on the edge of the next biobed. "Hmmm. You think ya gotta be big to be strong, huh?"

D'von's head bobbed in agreement. _{Yahuh.}__  
_  
"Well, lemme think about this for a second," Trip pondered as he briefly rubbed the back of his neck. "Malcolm's a little smaller than I am, but I'm pretty sure that he could beat me in a fight."

"_Pretty _sure?" Reed scoffed.

Trip ignored him. "An' yer a _lot_ smaller than Malcolm but you were still able to knock him off his feet when we first found you. You didn't have much trouble makin' me let go of you, either," he added as he held up his left hand.

D'von looked shamefacedly at the floor. Feeling the growing guilt and regret from the boy made Malcolm doubt whether the commander was being helpful after all, but before he could voice an opinion Trip forged ahead, sounding almost like a proud father.

"I think you're _very _strong, an' you handled yerself pretty darn well. Not sure I woulda been able to put up as good a fight as you did. You did a good job, D'von."

The baffled tot looked up from the floor to stare questioningly at Trip's face then the man's hand. _{Yew ams happy I hurt yore han?}_

D'von's bemusement washed the last of the darkness from Malcolm's mind. "I don't think that's what he meant," he sniggered before explaining to Trip. "He's a tad confused at the moment, trying to work out why you're not upset with him for biting you. He thinks you're happy that he hurt your hand."

"Well, I'm not sure _happy_ is the right word," Trip said pleasantly. "But everything worked out okay, an' there was no real damage." He held out his hand for D'von to examine. "See? Just a little bruised—nothin' serious. Couple more days an' ya won't be able to tell it ever happened."

_{Soo...I ams not in trouble? Was a __good __fing, doin' kicks an' bites?} _D'von asked as he studied Trip's hand.

Malcolm gave the lad's shoulder a couple reassuring pats. "Of course you're not in trouble. You didn't know who we were, and you thought we were going to hurt you. You were just trying to protect yourself—either of us would have done the same thing."

"Absolutely," Trip agreed, watching with curiosity as the boy tenderly took hold of his hand.

_{Still hurts liddle bit...I do fixes.}_ Raising the back of the man's hand to his lips he gave the bruises cautious, gentle kisses and strokes before repeating the process on Trip's palm. _{Ams besser, right?}_

Malcolm felt a rush of sensations and emotions: for a few seconds his own left hand throbbed slightly, then there was brush of fingers and velveteen lips upon it. D'von's emotions coursed through his mind and mingled with Trip's (and his own), floating and tickling enjoyably through his brain before dissipating like mid-morning fog. He could have tried to answer for the commander but didn't quite trust his voice. "He wants to know if it feels better," he relayed faintly.

"It sure does," Trip said. "Kisses can make almost anything feel better."

"So I've heard," Phlox chimed in from his vantage point across the room, grinning broadly as he approached them. "Well Commander, have you finished taking pictures?"

"Yeah…we're all done for now," Trip replied. "Thanks for letting me go ahead, Doc."

"Not at all."

Reed was stunned. "You condoned the commander photographing us while we were asleep?"

"Well…not at first," the doctor admitted. "But he offered a very convincing argument on the importance of documenting our young friend's stay with us, and he promised that he wouldn't frighten the boy and would stop if D'von objected. I didn't suppose you would be opposed to the idea."

_{Yew dunnint like doin' pitchers?}_ The tot sounded surprised and amused, as though not liking to be photographed was even sillier than wearing an EV suit.

"Well...I...it's not that," Malcolm stammered to all of them. "It's just...if I'm going to be photographed I'd at least like a chance to freshen up so I'll look halfway decent. I haven't had a chance to shave, and my hair's a mess...I haven't showered...God, I must look a fright." Self-consciously combing his fingers through his hair, he looked sheepishly at the others. "It just would have been nice to be given a little time to _prepare_, that's all. I look wretched."

_{Yew ams __bootiful__, Mao-kim. _Wanda see da pitcher? Ahnklah Tip showed me._} _D'von made a small 'gimme' gesture to the camera then pointed to Malcolm.

"He wants me to see the pictures," the lieutenant explained.

Trip's grin widened. "Sure thing." He held the camera so Malcolm could see the display and scrolled through the photos, careful to not give the man the opportunity to delete any of the shots.

Reed stared at the photos on the small screen; he hadn't expected them to be so…so _good_. Despite his bleary-eyed, rumpled appearance, the last one was especially stunning. "I believe you missed your calling, Commander. If you ever tire of engineering you could be a professional photographer. I suppose since these _did _turn out so nice, and since D'von approves, I'll have to withdraw my objections. Now," he continued, tousling D'von's hair, "I think it might be a good idea to eat our breakfast—I for one am _famished_, and can say with a high level of confidence that D'von is, too."

"I'm not surprised," Trip agreed. "An' I guess I've gotta get to Engineering sometime today. But I'll stop back after my shift, if it's okay."

"Would you like Trip to come back later?" Malcolm asked D'von.

D'von nodded vigorously. _{Yahuh…would be nice to do more pitchers.}_

The lieutenant shot a glance at Trip. "Don't forget to bring your camera," he advised. "D'von is looking forward to another photo session."

"No problem," Trip agreed cheerily, giving the boy a playful chuck under the chin before heading for the exit. Reaching the door he turned back to face them, a glow of inspiration lighting his features. "Y'know, now that I think about it, I _might_ bring more than that," he added with an air of mystery and a wave as he headed out the door.

After watching the engineer's departure the doctor smiled at his patients. "I should be returning to my duties as well. I have reports to file, scans to review, and a new message from my friend at the Denobulan Diplomatic Corps…_and_ I need to put a few finishing touches on that informational article for the crew. Oh, I want to thank you for your advice, Lieutenant—Captain Archer has agreed to make it mandatory reading."

"Glad to have been of help. I trust I'm still first in line to get a copy?"

"Oh yes—I'll let you know when it's complete. Now then," Phlox smiled broadly, wheeling the utility table closer to the bed, "the two of you are far overdue for breakfast. Your allergy shots are all up-to-date, Lieutenant, so the pineapple in the fruit cup won't pose a problem. I believe the Human phrase is 'bon appétit', hmm?" With a tip of his head the doctor headed to his office.

Malcolm watched Phlox's departure until distracted by a tiny scraping sound. He glanced over to see D'von cautiously peeking under the lid from one of the meals.

_{Maybe shunnint eats dis…smells wunnerfuls, but dunnint eats bone, an' dunnint know what ams 'a-peet'.}_ He shot another questioning look at the lieutenant. _{__Yew__ eats 'bone-a-peet'?}_

Reed laughed quietly. "It's not 'bone-a-peet', love. 'Bon appétit' is a French phrase that means, 'good appetite.' It's a way of telling someone to enjoy their meal. Understand?"

D'von considered it for a bit. _{Sooo…no bones?}_

"No bones," Malcolm assured him.

_{Hokay. We do eats naow?}_

"Yes." Lifting the lids from the tray Reed pointed out the various foods. "This is a fruit cup—it's a mixture of several varieties of fruit cut into bite-size chunks. And these are slices of toast, with butter and a sprinkling of cinnamon-sugar on top. There's your juice, and the bowl has the oatmeal in it." He watched in amusement as D'von once again sniffed at the food, the boy's face crinkling in delight at the scents. "Where shall we begin?"

D'von picked up a slice of toast and studied it before giving it a timid lick with the tip of his tongue. _{Mmm…dis ams good fing. Fink I wanda have dis first.}_

"That's fine. I'm going to have some of my fruit first, I think." Spearing a chunk of peach with his fork, Malcolm smiled at the boy's manner of eating.

D'von rapidly dispatched almost a third of the slice of toast with a fast, dainty nibbling action before moving the bread from his lips. Setting that aside he surveyed the rest of his breakfast, finally deciding on the oatmeal. He was slowed by the flatware for only a moment, picking up the fork and spoon for a side-by-side comparison before putting the fork aside and diving greedily into the oatmeal.

"You might want to slow down a bit," Malcolm suggested as he switched to his toast. "It wouldn't do to give yourself a tummy-ache first thing."

_{But ams very__very __hun-gree, Mao-kim,}_ D'von replied without slacking his pace. _{An' dis ams veryvery good.}_

Malcolm put a gentle restraining hand on D'von's arm, stopping the spoon in mid-flight. "If it's so very very good, why not take time to _enjoy_ it, hm?"

D'von blinked as he looked at Malcolm. _{Hm. Dinnint finks 'bout dat. Hokay.}_ Sliding the spoonful of cereal into his mouth, he slowed his chewing to savor the food. _{Yew ams right—ams even besser dis way!}_ When he'd finished the last of the oatmeal he lifted the bowl and licked it clean, then finished his toast. Moving his attention to the fruit cup he stared into the container, perusing its contents. _{Dis ams…frooot, right?}_

"Yes. Let's have a look," Malcolm suggested before taking a quick sip of tea. He pointed at the various chunks in the cup. "These are peaches, that's a bit of apple, and that one's a chunk of pear…the little round green things are grapes…the bright red things are bits of cherry, that's pineapple, these are slices of strawberry, and the green bits with the little black flecks are kiwi. That leafy bit on top is a sprig of mint that Chef used to make it all look pretty. You can eat that, too, if you want."

_{Yew gunda eats __yore__ mint?}_D'von asked, seeing the garnish on the side of Malcolm's tray.

"To tell you the truth, I don't care for it on its own. Would you like it?" he offered, holding it out to the boy.

_{Oh, yes,}_ he accepted eagerly. _{Fank yew. Yew likes da pineapple, right?}_ D'von asked as he sniffed the mint then set both sprigs in his empty bowl with great care.

"Yes…it's my favorite food, actually. Do you have a favorite food?"

D'von's brow furrowed in thought. _{Just one fing besser? Dunnint fink so. Likes __lotsa __foods. Do all Hoomins like pineapple for fave-writ?}_

"No…everyone likes different things. I think Commander Tucker—Ahnklah Tip," he amended as he retrieved his tea, "enjoys pecan pie, and I'm fairly sure Hoshi's favorite food is chocolate." He watched the boy sample the various fruits. "It's very good, isn't it?"

_{Yahuh. Ams all very good froots…finks kee-whee ams fave-writ. Ams hokay I likes kee-whee besser dan pineapple?} _

"Of course," Malcolm smiled, taking another sip of tea before moving on to his oatmeal.

Lifting the small glass to study its contents, D'von gave the nectar a few quick sniffs before trying a tiny sip. After swishing it around in his mouth the boy at last swallowed, eyes closing in bliss as he made tiny, rapid lip-licking sounds. His eyes opened after a bit and he looked at the lieutenant. _{Dis ams very good, too, but yew dinnint get endy. Wanda try?}_ he offered, holding the glass out.

Malcolm accepted it and took a small taste. "That's very good," he agreed. "I don't think I've ever had that before." Seeing D'von's intent gaze fixed on his tea, Malcolm held it out. "This is hot tea. Would you care to try some?"

With an enthusiastic nod D'von carefully took hold of the mug and took a taste. Going through the same routine as with the juice, he at last gave his verdict. _{Dis ams good too, but fink I likes mine besser, hokay?}_

"That's fine," Reed chuckled. The two finished their meals in pleasant silence, D'von retrieving the mint sprigs from his bowl when he was done and, munching on one of them, tucking the other one into his pouch. Once Malcolm finished eating he stretched out on the bed, leaning contentedly against the raised head of the bed with one arm behind his head. The other arm wrapped around D'von as the boy snuggled up onto him, resting the back of his shaggy head on Malcolm's chest. Simultaneous relaxed sighs escaped from both of them.

"That was an excellent breakfast," Malcolm observed.

_{Yahuh. Ex-lent. Ams awe-flee nice, too. Saved udder mint for nibbles layder.}_ D'von paused then gave a wide yawn. _{What we gunda do naow?}_

Stifling a yawn of his own, Malcolm gave it some thought. "You know, I'm not really sure." He could feel grogginess coming over the boy. "How about a little nap? You seem a bit tired, and I'm feeling rather fatigued, too."

_{Nuh-__uuh__,} _D'von denied unconvincingly. _{Ams not sleepy too much.}_ He yawned again and Malcolm could feel happy embarrassment from the boy. _{Well…maybe jus' a __liddle__ bit sleepy,}_ he admitted, holding up one hand with his thumb and index finger a few millimeters apart. _{But dunno if should take naps again. Dunnint we hafsa go do works?}_

"Work? Well, Dr. Phlox hasn't cleared _me_ to return to duty yet, and _you_ don't _have_to work—you're a guest here, you know." D'von's confused disappointment tickled at his mind.

_{But I dunnint __wanda__ be __guest__, Mao-kim. Guests go 'way. Wanda stay wiv yew. An' I __hafsa__ do works—__everybuddy __hafsa do works. Everybuddy godda do dare shares so da ship keeps goin'. Besides, hafsa do sumfing to pay back for helps an' eats an' stuff, right?}_

Even knowing how D'von felt about repaying people, the idea of his doing chores hadn't occurred to Reed. He puzzled it over a moment. "Hm. Well, I'm not sure what kind of jobs we could find for you, but I promise to give it some thought. I don't want you worrying about working just yet though, all right? You've got to finish getting better first—that's most important. And as far as you being a guest…Captain Archer and some of the others are trying to find your family so we can get you back home, but you'll be staying with us until we find them."

A flood of unbearable sorrow flowed from D'von as he looked up at Reed, tears filling his eyes. _{Famblee…ams __dead__, Mao-kim. Man from da bad ship sed…he killed dem all. Cannint I stay wiv __yew__? We ams Joineded, so __yew __ams my famblee now. An' yew sed yew ams Taj…yew ams posta takes care of me, an' I'm posta stay wiv yew. Yew __wants __me to stay wiv yew…riiight?}_

Malcolm struggled against the growing currents of sadness and uncertainty and did the only thing he could think of to make the awful sensation stop. Wrapping both arms around D'von, Reed held him tight and kissed the top of the boy's head. "Of _course_ I want you to stay with me. There's nothing for you to worry about—I'll take excellent care of you."

The boy's mood brightened almost instantly, the unhappiness evaporating rapidly as he sighed with relief. _{Dat's good. Stay wiv yew ams good fing. Can do lots of works for da ship,}_ he assured the grown-up, _{an' do hewps. Can do lots of fings. Lots of hewps. Makes yew all veryvery__very__ happy, I promise.}_ He yawned again, the final faint traces of doubt and despair disappearing as he snuggled against Malcolm's chest and began to doze off. _{Maybe do liddle itty-bitty naps,}_ he slurred, _{den can do works…an' more eats layder, right?}_ he asked tiredly.

"Lunch will be in a few hours," Malcolm softly assured him, relieved that the unhappy emotions had gone. "As far as working, even if there _are_ some chores that you can do Dr. Phlox will have to give the okay first. Can't risk having you re-injure yourself, after all. So don't concern yourself about work just yet. For right now, I think a little nap is just the ticket for both of us." There was a long pause as their minds and bodies quieted down.

_{Mao-kim?}_

"Yes?"

_{Yew sed before dat yew would sing to me, like in da blue room.}_

Malcolm smiled. "That's right…I did. I'd almost forgotten."

_{Can sing naow? Please?}_

Looking down at the top of D'von's head, Malcolm hesitated. "Are you sure you want me to? I'm really not a very good singer."

_{Yew sing-ded very nice in da blue room,} _D'von assured him. _{Felted very good.}_

"Well, if you're _sure_ you want me to," Reed teased. "And I _did_ promise, after all."

Tipping his head back, the boy looked up at the lieutenant with a huge grin. _{Yahuh, yew promised. I 'members.}_

"Very well, then. Do you want the blanket?"

Quickly sitting up, D'von seized the blanket from the foot of the bed and hastily draped it over the two of them before settling back against Malcolm's chest. _{Hokay…ams comfy an' ready for sing-ging. Yew ams comfy, right?}_

"Oh yes…quite comfy," Reed assured him with a chuckle as he straightened the blanket, then cleared his throat before beginning to quietly sing. "Nothing's gonna harm you…not while I'm around…"

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

_My dearest Phlox,_

_I am sending as much new information about Lehrites as we've been able to find. Sadly I have yet to locate any of their people or ships, but you know how determined I can be as well as how much I enjoy a challenge. The search shall continue!_

_You surely remember my third husband's fondness for linguistics; this made him the perfect person to work on finding samples of Lehrite languages. He's been in ecstasy over the number of dialects! Your Ensign Sato may find it a daunting task to sort through them and figure out which words and phrases may be helpful, but she seems quite bright and capable so I'm sure she's up to the challenge. Please pass the attached file along to her with our complements—and do have her send back any corrections or observations she may have, as Korvan is eager for a second opinion on his translations. He said something about repetition intensifying or changing the meaning of some words and phrases, but I may have misheard him—you know how he mutters under his breath __when he's working!_

_I believe you already have all the medical information that we do, but I __did __find a brief mention of susceptibility to ear infections among younger Lehrites. Since I don't recall seeing that mentioned in the material you've already gotten from here I thought I should bring it to your attention. There is also information on that theory that they are capable of hypnosis at a glance. I'm happy to confirm that it is utter nonsense: I believe Humans would call it "an old wives' tale." (Perhaps Ensign Sato could explain that phrase to me sometime? Despite Korvan's reassurances I'm not __entirely __convinced that I've used it correctly.) Oh, and I found out that the Andorians have a saying about when something is deemed too difficult to attempt: "It's like trying to out-drink a Lehrite." I've been told that it __is__ possible to out-drink a Lehrite…it's just not advisable to try. I don't suppose that would be much of a concern in this instance, though, would it? As I understand it, Humans generally refrain from serving intoxicants to children._

_Good luck with the little fellow—you __will__ keep me up to date on his progress, won't you?_

_With fondness and best wishes,  
__Forlisa_

After playing the latest message from Forlisa and reviewing the information she had sent Phlox turned his attention back to the other padd on his desk. Once he'd added the new information to the report for the crew and sent the language samples to Ensign Sato he pushed the padds aside and stood, deciding to check on his patients. It had been almost two hours since the sound of the lieutenant's hushed singing had died away: he'd looked in on them when the man had first gone silent and had been glad to see that both D'von and Reed had fallen asleep.

The discussion about the "bad ship" had obviously been an emotional and physical drain on both of his patients. Lt. Reed had been noticeably impacted by whatever D'von had said and felt; nevertheless he'd done an admirable job of handling the situation and refocusing the boy's attention. The doctor had not been convinced by the lieutenant's earlier claims that he was "fine" and that he'd had little difficulty handling the influx of emotions from D'von, but this latest episode bolstered Phlox's confidence in Mr. Reed's ability to manage such incidents in the future.

Quietly peeking in at the pair now, he was pleased to see that they were both still sleeping. After a quick check of their vital signs Phlox returned to his office to review his report for the crew one last time. Satisfied with the final draft he saved the last changes, copied it to another padd for the lieutenant, then set the padds aside and pulled up D'von's most recent scan results on the computer terminal. The boy's injuries were healing at a remarkable rate—the damage to the left ear was almost healed enough to allow the return of the earring, and with a bit of luck the boy would be walking within a week and talking in another day or two. The horn would doubtless be tender for a couple of weeks, but that was to be expected since the denser tissue grew at a slower rate. Brow furrowing, the doctor frowned at the detailed scan of the boy's head. At first glance nothing leapt out from the scan but Phlox couldn't dismiss the feeling that there was something amiss. What was that human term he'd heard? Out of kilter? Yes, that was it. Something was out of kilter here, even if he couldn't put his finger on it. Hearing the main doors open Phlox closed the file, making a mental note to come back to it later, and went to greet his visitor. He found Captain Archer watching the sleeping patients.

"Ahh, good morning, Captain," the doctor greeted him in a cheerful but hushed voice.

"Doctor," Archer returned the greeting. "How are they doing?"

Phlox beckoned him away from the biobeds so they could talk without waking the two. "Quite well, actually," he answered softly. They've had breakfast and are having a nap right now. D'von's injuries are healing nicely. I expect he'll be back on his feet—or hooves, I should say—in a few days, and talking even sooner. And aside from a few temporary fluctuations in his neurotransmitter levels Lt. Reed's readings are, for all intents and purposes, normal. He will be free to return to his quarters this afternoon, although D'von might object to that," he observed with humor. "I want to wait a little while longer before clearing the lieutenant for duty, though. Perhaps one or two days, if his readings remain consistent."

Jon couldn't entirely banish the worry from his face or voice. "I talked to Trip a little while ago. He said D'von talked to Malcolm about the people that had him?"

Nodding, Phlox frowned and moved further from the biobeds, motioning the captain to follow. "Mmm. Of course, we could only hear the lieutenant's end of the conversation…for some reason D'von's captors tried to poison him."

"That's what Trip said. He told me that Malcolm looked a little…off…during the conversation. I was wondering if you'd noticed anything?"

"He _was_ affected during the exchange," Phlox confirmed. "D'von was obviously uncomfortable discussing his captors, and the lieutenant felt that discomfort because of the connection between them. The only side effect for either of them seems to have been the need for a nap afterward and the changes in neurotransmitter levels. Mr. Reed has also admitted to experiencing a few brief instances of feeling someone else's emotions as a result of his connection with our guest, and while I agree that it could be an area of concern I do not wish to alarm either of my patients. I feel that he is handling the episodes rather well, but I will speak privately with the lieutenant at the earliest opportunity to find out how intense the sensations are and see if he needs help alleviating the effects of the additional emotional input he's receiving."

Archer nodded his approval. "If there's anything I can do to h—" A light thud and a squeak interrupted him.

Both men turned to see D'von standing beside the bed, his bandaged hoof hovering a few inches over the floor. Looking down at the appendage he gingerly tested it against the deck plating but instantly drew it back with another tiny squeak. Malcolm simultaneously flinched in his sleep but showed no sign of waking.

Noticing them watching him, the boy pointed to Malcolm and put a finger to his lips. His smile broadened as the doctor approached and picked him up.

"You're quite right," Phlox whispered as he carried D'von away from the bed. "We shouldn't wake him. But I'm curious as to why you're up—did you fall out of bed?"

D'von shook his head. _{Nuh-uh. Dinnint fall. Goddago. An' I ams firsty, but cunnint reach da water. An' I wanda do look-see, but cannint walk on my hoof 'cuz it still hurts. But Mao-kim ams still seeping so he cannint do hewps.} _He looked expectantly into the Denobulan's eyes a moment before remembering. _{Yew cannint hears me—I forgot.}_ Squirming slightly in the man's arms he put his hand in front of his crotch and gave a tiny grunt.

Phlox understood immediately. "Captain, if you would excuse us a moment, I believe D'von needs to use the bathroom again." D'von nodded confirmation, and Phlox chuckled softly as he told the captain, "We'll be back shortly."

Jon couldn't help smiling as he watched them leave, but he grew serious as his attention returned to his Armory Officer. Under normal circumstances this much time spent in Sickbay would have Reed either climbing the walls or flat out staging an escape. Even with the doctor's assurances that Malcolm's readings were pretty much normal, Archer couldn't fully dismiss his unease at the situation: he was sure D'von wouldn't _intentionally_ hurt Malcolm, but there was still the possibility of some sort of damage. He studied the readings on the wall above the bed as if he'd be able to understand them if he stared at them hard enough. A few were obvious: there was heart rate, and respiration, and that one was maybe blood pressure, but the others eluded him. Did that one signify brain activity, or maybe—

"Captain?" Malcolm's bewildered voice snapped Archer's attention back to the bed. "Where's D'von? Is something wrong?" Reed was halfway out of bed before Jon could get a hand on his shoulder.

"D'von's fine—he woke up a few minutes ago and Phlox took him to the bathroom. They should be back pretty soon."

Malcolm closed his eyes with a sigh, settling himself on the edge of the bed. "Ah. Of course. I should have realized." He met Archer's gaze. "Sorry, sir. I just…I guess Commander Tucker was right after all. I'm being a bit of a mother hen. It's just that, with his hoof still on the mend, I didn't expect him to be gone."

Jon chuckled as he settled into the chair next to the bed. "Well, he took us a bit by surprise, too. The doctor and I heard him get out of bed. Seems he had to use the bathroom, but he figured out right away that he couldn't walk yet. And if it makes you feel any better about being a mother hen, D'von was worried that we'd wake you up."

Now it was Reed's turn to give a quiet laugh. "That sounds typical of him. He mentioned his abductors earlier, then promised to not talk about them anymore because he was worried about making me sad." Staring down at the floor all levity abandoned him. "I can't figure it out," he confessed before looking at the captain again. "Whoever his captors were, they tried to poison him. Why would they go to the trouble of kidnapping him only to try to _kill_ him?"

"Trip mentioned that when I talked to him a little while ago. Does D'von have any idea who they were?"

Malcolm shook his head with a frown. "He hasn't spoken of them in any real detail. I don't believe he knew who they were, why they took him, or even what species they were."

"If you can get some more information from him it might help," Archer suggested. "See if you can get a description of them, or have him look through some of the entries in the Vulcan Database and see if any of the species in there look familiar to him."

"I'm not entirely certain that would be a good idea just yet," Malcolm hesitantly objected. "When he mentioned them earlier it made him very uncomfortable. It was…a bit unpleasant," he admitted. "I get the distinct feeling that he's trying to avoid even thinking about what happened. It might be easier to broach the subject once he can speak aloud, though," he added hurriedly.

"If he's recovering as quickly as Phlox said, it should only be another day or two before he's able to talk. But the sooner we can get information from him the sooner we can put it to use to find his family."

"Sir…if D'von is correct, his family is…gone. Killed by his abductors."

Stunned, Jon leaned forward in the chair. "My god…are you sure?"

Head canted to one side, the lieutenant considered. "D'von didn't say he _saw_ them killed, only that he'd been _told_ they'd been killed." He gave the tiniest smile at the glimmer of hope the small distinction suddenly gave him. "They might have lied to him about killing them, trying to make him easier to control."

"Easier to control?"

"Mm. If he thought his family was dead he wouldn't be expecting anyone to make a rescue attempt. He'd become solely dependent upon his kidnappers, and therefore more compliant." His eyes gleamed excitedly. "You have to keep looking for them, sir. Without any proof that his family is dead—"

"We should assume that they're alive," Archer nodded. "I agree."

As Malcolm closed his eyes with relief, his captain studied his face. He looked almost blissful now, but when the whole Joining thing had first happened Reed had been distracted and very confused. _Vulnerable_, Jon thought; a term he would never before have associated with the lieutenant. And later, when he'd stopped in to see how things were going, Malcolm had looked tired. No, strike that: he'd looked _drained_, despite his good-natured bantering with the doctor before heading off to 'the loo'. And there had been something else that Archer hadn't been able to put his finger on until now. The younger man's eyes, he realized, had held a flicker of emptiness, as if some part of him had been missing. Or had been taken away, perhaps? Had Malcolm been feeling the boy's absence that keenly, with the connection only a few hours old?

At that time they had all believed that the Joining had been unsuccessful, Malcolm most of all. Now with the bond confirmed and clearly visible Jon was more worried than ever, not only because of the possibility that it could damage Malcolm but because the man could be damnably close-lipped when he had a problem. If the emotional or physical burden of being Joined proved too great, would Reed admit it to anyone—or even himself—or would he just insist that he was 'fine' and carry on to the point of collapse? Archer had a very bad feeling that he already knew the answer to that one.

"How are you doing, Malcolm?" _And if you say, "I'm fine," I might just throttle you_, he thought.

There was no sense trying to deny it. "I'm…not entirely sure," Reed admitted with a trace of embarrassment, the corner of his mouth giving a twitch. "Getting used to D'von's _voice_ in my head has been easier than I would have thought, but the _emotions_ are a tad more difficult. They change so rapidly it's a challenge to keep up sometimes. It's a bit like…like a roller coaster, I suppose."

"A roller coaster?" Archer repeated in disbelief, getting a nod from the lieutenant.

"Yes. He'll be happy and content one instant, then something sets him to worrying, then he's sad or afraid, then back to happy again as if nothing had happened, all within a few moments. He shifts gears so rapidly, it's a trifle dizzying at times."

"I would imagine so," Jon agreed. "Sounds more like a tilt-a-whirl than a roller coaster, though." He stayed silent a moment before asking, "Is that the only problem?"

He didn't want the captain to know—didn't want _anyone _to know—but knew he had to be honest about it. Besides, from the captain's tone of voice Malcolm suspected that Archer already knew the truth. "I've experienced a few peculiar...sensations. The emotions that D'von has felt in others have been briefly transmitted to me. When Phlox was angry earlier, I felt it for a second, and a little while ago I could feel what Commander Tucker was feeling." He decided to leave out what he'd experienced when Liz and Hoshi had been gushing over the boy during their visit. The captain didn't need to know _every_ detail, after all. "It only lasted a second or two, though. Aside from that, and the roller coaster rides," he assured Archer, his eyes taking on a mischievous twinkle, "I feel fine, and I'm more than a little eager to get out of here."

"Phlox mentioned letting you out of here," Archer grinned, "but he said D'von might object."

"Mmm," Malcolm nodded his agreement, "I'm sure he'll disapprove of my leaving, but I think he'll be all right as long as he knows I'll be coming back for him. Staying with me seems to be his biggest worry at present—that and finding jobs to do."

"Jobs?"

"He's eager to pay us back for helping him—says he can do lots of things for the ship and make us all very happy," Malcolm told him. "The doctor told me earlier that Lehrites are quite keen on repaying people who do things for them, and it seems D'von is eager to get started. I told the little mite he'd have to wait for Phlox to give the all-clear first."

"So…what kind of chores do you think you'll find for him?" Archer asked as he leaned back in the chair, unable to suppress a grin.

"I hadn't even given it any thought before he mentioned it. I suppose it makes sense to give him some little jobs to keep him busy, but still…I don't want to turn him into some sort of _cabin boy_."

"When I was his age," Jon reminisced, "my parents had me help set the table for meals and take out the trash sometimes. And I helped with some of the housekeeping—dusting, washing dishes…that sort of thing. Plus I'd help my father in his workshop." He smiled at the memory. "Well, 'help' may be stretching it a little. _I_ thought I was helping—handing him tools that he usually didn't need, asking endless questions…basically pestering him about what he was doing. Thinking back on it, between my _help_ and the Vulcans' _lack_ of it, I'm amazed he got _any_thing accomplished."

Malcolm shook his head. "Well, helping out in _my_ 'workshop' is out of the question—the Armoury is certainly no place for a little boy. And it's not as though he can take the dustbin to the curb for us. As far as helping with dishes..." He cracked tiny grin. "Well, you know how Chef feels about unauthorized personnel in his Galley. Still, I'm sure I can think of some busywork for him…little tasks to let him feel that he's contributing."

"Well, if you need any help thinking up chores for him, let me know. Or if you need help with anything _else_, for that matter," Archer added with more seriousness. "My turn to be a mother hen, I guess…I'm worried about you. Phlox said that except for some changes in your neurotransmitter levels your readings seem normal but we still don't know if there will be any adverse long-term effects from this, or what they might be."

"I understand that, sir, and I _do_ appreciate your concern but I'm not sure it's necessary. If anything too terrible was going to come of this I suspect it would have already happened. Phlox hasn't found any damage and, as I said earlier, I feel fine."

"Except for the roller coaster rides," Archer jokingly reminded him, wanting to lighten the mood.

"Well, yes…aside from that," Malcolm agreed with an embarrassed half-smirk which broadened into a full-fledged smile as he saw Phlox returning, pushing a wheeled office chair in front of him; D'von was perched on the chair clearly enjoying his ride through Sickbay.

"Here we are, back again," Phlox said with a grin. "Now, I believe we neglected to do proper introductions before so we'd best do that now. D'von, I'd like you to meet Captain Archer. Captain, this is D'von."

_{Hai,}_ D'von waved cheerily. _{Ams nice meeting yew. Capann-ahcha ams inneresing name.}_

"He says hello, sir," Malcolm relayed. "And it's nice to meet you." Probably best to forgo the bit about the name for now, he decided.

Jon returned the tot's contagious smile as he stood. "It's nice to meet you, too, D'von," he replied, extending his hand.

For a second the boy gave Archer's hand a puzzled look then his smile broadened. _{Oh! I readed 'bouts dis in skool—Hoomins do han-shakes!}_ Beaming proudly, he grasped the captain's hand and gave it an enthusiastic shake.

"I apologize for our delay in returning," Phlox explained cheerfully, "but I thought as long as D'von was up and about we'd check on a few things. We did a few scans and changed the dressing on his hoof. He shouldn't try walking on it just yet, though. I'm happy to say he no longer needs the bandage on his throat, but he does still need to be careful of it for the time being—we decided that he can try to do a little talking later this afternoon. The cast on his horn needs to stay for a while longer, but the horn is healing quite nicely."

Jon smiled warmly at their guest. "Well...sounds like you've been busy."

_{Yahuh,}_ the boy nodded, smiling warmly. _{An' was fun, too…did goddago, den had scans—no imjing, jus' liddle scans—an' had drinks, an' had some look-sees...an' I gots priddy new banage for my hoof!}_ He held out his foot for them to admire.

"He says he had fun," Malcolm told the doctor. "And he likes his new bandage."

Phlox bowed his head slightly. "It's always a treat to make a patient happy. Oh, I almost forgot—first thing tomorrow morning we'll be returning his earring to its rightful place."

Still admiring his 'banage', D'von's grin widened. _{Has priddy new banage an' gunda gets my e-ring back…Noblan ams veryvery nice to me, Mao-kim. Gunda hafsa do sumfing __extra__-speshul for him!}_

"He wants to do something special for you because you've been so nice to him, Phlox," Reed told the doctor.

_{__EXTRA__-speshul,}_ the boy corrected. _{Ams Noblan 'Ahnklah', too?}_ he asked with a faint giggle, still admiring the fresh dressing on his hoof.

"Excuse me…_extra _special," Malcolm amended. "And he wants to know if you're an 'Ahnklah', too. Commander Tucker has been referring to himself as 'Uncle Trip', and 'ahnklah' is apparently as close as D'von can get to the correct pronunciation."

"I would be honored to be an 'ahnklah'," Phlox told D'von, garnering a stifled giggle from the lad.

"I'm not sure why, but he finds this whole uncle/ahnklah thing rather amusing—he giggles every time he hears or says it. It might not be a bad idea to have Hoshi try to find out what the word means…for all we know it's something risqué, or maybe some intimate body part or something."

"The last message I received from Denobula had some samples of Lehrite language and dialects for the ensign," the doctor said. "Perhaps ahnklah is among them."

"When I get back to the bridge I'll have Hoshi check it out when I see her," the captain offered with a grin. "And if it _is_ something risqué or some intimate body part…maybe we should hold off telling Trip for a little while." His smile widened, a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes.

The other men grinned as well, but before either of them could make reply D'von looked away from his own bandaged foot and noticed, for the first time, Captain Archer's boots. The boy gasped in amazement. _{Mao-kim…yew sed Hoomins has toe-finners on dare hoo-feets…whycome he haves hooves? Never seen hooves like doze_—_ams priddy. Nice an_'_ shiny.}_

Noticing D'von's attention to his feet Archer looked down at them. "Did I spill something on my boots?"

"No sir," Malcolm assured him. "It's just that…well, earlier he asked about my feet because he'd never seen toes before, so now he's wondering why you don't have toes, too. He thinks your boots are hooves." Seeing the surprised look on the captain's face he quickly added, "He likes them, sir—he thinks they're pretty."

Jon returned the lad's amused smile with one of his own and offered an explanation. "We wear shoes or boots to protect our feet." Settling himself on the bed next to the lieutenant he quickly removed one of his boots then held up his sock-clad foot for D'von to inspect. "And this is a sock," he said, giving it a tug before removing it. Holding his naked foot next to Malcolm's, Archer wiggled his toes for the enthralled tot. "See? Toes, just like his."

_{Booots...an' socks...an' toe-finners like Mao-kim. Hokay good.}_ D'von studied the man's feet, clapping delightedly as Jon again flexed his toes.

Archer chuckled. "He seems to like them."

"Yes," Phlox agreed, "he certainly finds them to be entertaining. And he's equally intrigued by our other anatomical differences—our mutual lack of horns, for instance. And he seemed fascinated by my facial ridges while I was removing the bandage from his throat, though he did keep the touching to a minimum."

_{Noblans dunnint like touches, so dinnint touch too much,}_ the boy stated, eyes still riveted on Archer's feet. _{But haves very priddy faces. Hard to not do touches.}_ He clapped again as Jon's toes moved once more.

"He knows that Denobulans don't like excessive touching," Malcolm told the doctor. "But he found it difficult to keep his hands to himself because your people have very pretty faces."

The doctor's ever-present smile broadened. "Why, thank you, D'von. You have a very pretty face, too. And I suppose a _little_ occasional touching wouldn't be intolerable."

_{What ams im...im-tall...what he sed?}_

Reed choked back a laugh. "'Intolerable'," he pronounced slowly. "Phlox means he wouldn't mind a _little_ bit of touching ever once in a while. Just be certain you ask permission first, all right?"

_{Ax Ahnklah Fox a'fore do touches. Hokay,}_ D'von nodded his agreement before once more returning his attention to Archer's feet.

_"It's 'Phlox', luv,"_ Malcolm mentally corrected.

_{Ams what I sed, Mao-kim.}_

The captain gave one more wiggle of his toes before pulling his sock and boot back on. "Well, I'd best get back to the Bridge before T'Pol sends out a search party." Standing, he again offered his hand to the boy. "It was very nice meeting you, D'von. I'm looking forward to seeing you again soon."

Vigorously shaking Archer's hand, D'von beamed up at him. _{Ams nice meeting yew, too, Capann-ahcha. Gunda be nice seeing yew again, too. Fank yew for doin' toe-finner-wiggles.} _Relinquishing the captain's hand, the boy quickly squirmed about in the chair so his back faced the men. Before Malcolm could stop him D'von tugged his nightshirt out of the way to reveal his tail, zealously twitching the appendage. _{I do wiggles, too, see?}_

Malcolm flushed crimson, his jaw doing a slow-motion drop, and Phlox chuckled as he stepped forward. Putting a steadying hand on D'von's shoulder the doctor aimed a grin at Archer. "Lehrites believe in paying their debts as promptly as possible, Captain. Since you wiggled your toes for him—"

"He had to wiggle something for me," Jon finished for him, fighting—and failing—to keep a straight face. Giving up, he let the smile spread across his face. "Thank you, D'von," he chuckled. "I can honestly say no one has ever wiggled their tail for me. Can you wiggle...anything else?"

"Oh god," Malcolm moaned, head dropping as he buried his face in his hands. He _really_ didn't want to think about what else the tot might decide to wiggle for them.

Settling back in the chair D'von stared at Reed, head tilting in puzzlement. _{Whycome yew ams bare-assed, Mao-kim? Yew liked tail-wiggles before...}_

Regaining a small measure of composure, Reed finally dared look at the others. Phlox and Captain Archer were both looking back at him with annoyingly amused expressions on their faces, their mirth pleasantly tickling at the edge of his mind and washing away at least a little of the embarrassment. _You're right...I did like it...but I think we're going to have to have a little talk later about acceptable social conduct, all right? _Feeling D'von's confusion deepen, Malcolm tried to explain. _There are some people who might think it's inappropriate for you to wiggle your tail at them, so it would probably be best if you didn't do it for anyone else, okay?_

_{Ams like...doin' touches wiv Ahnklah Fox? Ax furst?}_

_Yes, that's exactly right,_ Malcolm confirmed, gratified that the lad had caught on so quickly. Detailed lessons about public decorum could wait until later.

_{Capann-ahcha axed 'bout wigglin' udder stuff,}_ D'von remembered. _{Should show him,}_ he chirped happily, turning his attention back to Jon and Phlox. Giving the men a huge grin, the boy waggled his ears at them. _{Can do ear wiggles. An' nose wiggles liddle bit,}_ he added, twitching his nose. _{Hoomins can do ear an' nose wiggles?}_

The contagious merriment around him brought a smile to the lieutenant's lips. "He wants to know if humans can wiggle their ears and noses."

Archer shook his head. "I'm one of the ones who can't wiggle my ears, but some humans can." He gave an experimental twitch of his own nose. "Noses are a little bit easier," he chuckled.

D'von nodded in sympathetic understanding. _{Dat's hokay if yew cannint do wiggles too good. I cannint wiggle my toes-finners 'cuz I dunnint haves toe-finners. An' I cannint wiggle my horns...but En-dor-me-ans can wiggle dere horns. When I'm oder I wanda meet dem an' ax how to do horn wiggles.}_ He grew suddenly thoughtful and turned to Malcolm. _{Do yew fink En-dor-me-ans haves toe-finners, too?}_

"I'm not sure," Reed replied, puzzling over the new word a moment before realizing who D'von meant and explaining to the others. "He's apparently met up with some Andorians at some point—says they can wiggle their horns and he wants to find out how they do it. He's also curious about whether they have toes, too. Doctor?"

Phlox beamed at the chance to dispense a little of his knowledge. "As a matter of fact, they _do_ have toes. As to how they wiggle their, um, _horns_, perhaps later I can try to explain it to you, hmm? I've got some medical texts and illustrations that I'm sure would help you understand how it's done. Would you like that?"

The boy nodded, clapping excitedly. _{Dat would be wunnerful! Can learn udder stuff too? 'Bouts toe-finners an' hoo-feets, an' why Hoomins dunnint have horns, an' why King-ons haves lumpy heads—are dey tryin'a grow horns?—an' why ams En-dor-me-ans bloo, an' do Noblans haves toe-finners, an' why do Tell-rites like mud baffs, an'—}_

"Whoa, whoa," Malcolm urged, chuckling. "Slow down a little—I can't keep up." With a tip of his head he smiled at Phlox. "It seems we have a _very_ inquisitive young man here. He's quite eager to learn about Andorians, among others. I think I'm going to have to make a list for you, provided you don't mind giving an impromptu class on basic xenobiology."

The doctor fairly puffed up with glee. "I would be delighted to answer as many of your questions as I can," he told the boy.

"I'd love to stick around for that," Archer joked as he headed for the door, "but I need to get to the bridge. I'll see you later, gentlemen," he promised as he left.

Once the doors had closed Phlox turned his attention to the oldest of his charges. "Now then, Lieutenant, I'd like to get a few scans from you. Once we've finished with that I'll give you a copy of my report on Lehrites. Barring any abnormal scan results, you'll be free to return to your quarters in a very short while."

"Excellent—I've a great deal of work to catch up on."

"I think not," the doctor wagged a jovial finger at Reed. "I said you could return to your _quarters_, not your _duties_. I _will_ be contacting the Armoury _and_ the Bridge to let them know that if you should show up in either of those places you are to be turned away. If need be, I'll authorize them to carry you bodily to your quarters."

Thwarted, Malcolm sighed. He could tell Phlox wasn't bluffing about having him toted back to his quarters, and knew as well that there were certain members of the crew who would be only too happy to follow the doctor's instructions in that matter. "Would it be out of the question for me to at least stop at the Armoury long enough to pickup a few padds I left there? That way I could at least catch up on a few reports."

"I suppose that would be all right. But straight to your quarters after that, understood? "

"Oh, very well," the lieutenant grudgingly agreed. He'd hoped to linger in the Armoury for at least a few minutes, but he wouldn't put it past the Denobulan to call down there to check up on him.

Phlox took a padd from his pocket and offered it to Reed. "While I get ready to take those scans, you can put together that list of questions D'von would like answered, hmm?" There was a definite air of victory about him as Phlox strode across Sickbay.

Malcolm watched the doctor walk away then turned his gaze to the padd's blank screen, pausing only a moment before entering the questions already posed by the lad. "Let's see," he murmured, "you wanted to know why Humans don't have horns, and about Andorian toes, horns, and pigmentation...Klingon foreheads...Denobulan toes...Tellerite mud baths...what else would you like to know?"

D'von smiled lovingly at him. _{When we gunda go to kwaar-ders?}_

"Well...uh," Reed fumbled for an answer, "actually...you'll be staying here." Puzzled uncertainty tinged with fear lapped at the edge of his mind.

_{Yew gunda...leeeve me? But...wanda go wiv yew. Dunnint wanda be lones.}_

Relieved at the unexpected lifeline the boy had inadvertently given him, Malcolm seized it. "You're not going to be alone—Dr. Phlox will be here with you." He held up the padd. "He's going to try to answer some of your questions about Andorians and Klingons and Denobulans, and whatever others you may be curious about. He's very knowledgeable about many other species, you know. I wouldn't be surprised if he easily answers _all_your questions about these things. And I'm sure he's going to enjoy teaching you about them." He could feel D'von weighing his words, but the boy still had strong doubts about being left behind. "Phlox will take excellent care of you while I'm away. And you _did_ say you had fun with him before, right?"

D'von pondered. _{Ya-huh,} _he admitted hesitantly. _{Soooo...I'm gunda stay here wiv Ahnklah Fox for liddle whiles...den...yew gunda come back, right?}_

"Well of _course_ I'm coming back," the man tenderly assured him. "I'm just going to my quarters for a shower and to catch up on a little paperwork. And you know, I'm not going to be all that far away. Phlox," he called to the doctor, "may I use your computer terminal for a moment?"

"Absolutely," came the doctor's cheerful reply. Curious, he watched as the lieutenant set the padd on the bed and wheeled the tot to the terminal.

Reed called up the schematics for the ship and a cutaway view of the entire ship filled the screen. "Now then, this is Enterprise—the ship we're on now. And this," he pointed to a section of the ship, "is the deck we're on now. E Deck." He pressed a few buttons and the image changed to an overhead view of the entire deck. "This is E Deck, and _this_ is Sickbay, where we are now. These little symbols here represent the beds."

The boy leaned toward the display, intently studying the image, then looked over his shoulder at the beds. Turning back to the screen he pointed at the spot Malcolm had indicated. _{Soo...if beds are dare...den...we ams...}_ He thought a moment, briefly studying his surroundings before moving his finger to point at the area of the screen corresponding to the console they were using. _{We ams here?}_

"Yes...that's right," Malcolm replied with a laugh, pleasantly surprised that D'von had worked it out so quickly. "Very good! Now then, _these_," he traced a line along the deck plan, "are the corridors, and you see these little rooms? Those are the living quarters for some of the crewmembers. Just about each deck has crew quarters. _This_ one is mine...see how close it is to Sickbay?"

Tracing the path along the corridors from Sickbay to Malcolm's quarters with his finger, D'von's doubts evaporated. _{Yew gunda be in kwarders dare,} _he pointed again at Malcolm's room on the screen, _{an' I ams gunda be wiv Ahnklah Fox here,}_ he moved his finger to Sickbay. _{An yew gunda be back layder.} _He beamed proudly at his Taj.

"Yes," Malcolm assured him again, equally proud. "I'm not sure how long I'll be gone—probably only a few hours—but that will give Dr. Phlox a chance to teach you all _sorts_ of marvelous things, I'm sure."

_{So…will be like skool?}_ D'von asked happily.

"I suppose in a way, yes. You enjoy school, do you?"

_{Oh yes. Skool ams fun...hard sometimes, but still fun. Can do hewps for Ahnklah Fox, too? He's been doin' lots of hewps for me. Hafsa do hewps back.}_

"I'm not sure," Malcolm answered as he looked at the doctor. "He wants to know if he can help you with anything while I'm away, since you've done so much to help him."

"Oh, I'm sure we can find something for him to help me with," Phlox happily confirmed. "I'm ready for those scans whenever you are, Lieutenant."

Still perched in the chair, D'von watched as Malcolm went to the exam table and the doctor passed the hand scanner over him. Head canting from one side to another the boy studied the men for a bit before turning his attention back to the computer screen in front of him. If he was going to be living on this ship now, he'd have to learn where everything was. Starting at Sickbay he worked his way outward. Lots of kwarders meant lots of Hoomins to make happy, but if they were all as nice as Ahnklah Tip and Capann-ahcha and the Priddy Hoomin Laydees it shouldn't be _too_ hard to make them happy.

Many of the symbols before him were meaningless circles and rectangles—maybe Ahnklah Fox could explain it to him during skool—but, using Maokim's kwarders as a reference point he thought he could figure out what some of them were. Kwarders were where you lived and slept when you weren't working, so...maybe the blue rectangle was a bed? If so, then the skinny plain rectangle across the room was probably a desk or table. The little squares could be chairs, he supposed. His attention drifted to a room across the corridor from Maokim's. That one had many rectangles; two of those had tiny red circles all over their tops. Definitely not beds...he'd have to think about that one for a while. Long brown rectangles in several other rooms had him equally intrigued—those had little green splotches along the entire length of them.

_{Itty bitty baby ships!} _he squeaked at the unexpected discovery as he spotted the shuttlepods. Baby ships inside big ships, little green splotches on brown rectangles, other rectangles with tiny red dots...Hoomins had some strange things on their ships. He turned his attention back to the kwarders, amazed at how many of them there were. This Hoomin herd must be _huge_ for their ship to have so many famblees living on it! And there were so many beds! One of the jobs Lehrites his age had to do was to help with making the beds: he hoped that there would be someone helping him, otherwise it would take him all day to make so many of them. Studying them further he realized something peculiar about them. Throughout the map of the ship there were images that represented people, and after comparing the size of the people to the size of the furniture D'von realized that the beds were _very _small—certainly too small for a whole famblee to sleep on. Why, you could probably only fit two or three people in each one, and they'd have to sleep all smooshed together. Sleepy-snuggles were a wonderful thing, but a person needed room to move around, after all. These beds were definitely too small for an entire famblee, maybe even too small for when mommies and daddies had their special private time.

_{Even if da beds are small, gunda takes for-EVER to makes all dem.}_ Strong arms wrapped tenderly around him from behind.

"Studying the layout?" Malcolm cooed in his ear as he bent over the boy. "Not a bad idea to familiarize yourself with the ship—can't have you getting lost, after all. Any questions?" he asked, feeling a tickle of puzzlement from D'von. There was something else, too; he realized D'von hadn't heard—or rather, he supposed, felt—his approach. "You didn't know I was behind you, did you?"

_{Nuh-uh,} _D'von answered casually, seemingly unconcerned about having been snuck up on._ {Was lookin' at da pitcher of da ship. Lotsa stuff ta learn, huh?}_

"Quite a bit of stuff to learn, yes."

"Is everything all right?" Phlox asked as he approached.

"I think so...I guess he was concentrating so intently on studying the ship that he didn't realize I'd come up behind him. He doesn't seem too worried about it, though. Maybe it's normal?"

Phlox tipped his head to the side. "Possibly. I've seen Humans concentrate on a task to the point of not noticing what is going on around them—I believe they refer to it as 'tuning off?"

"I think you mean 'tuning _out_'," Malcolm corrected with a half-smile.

"Ah, yes, that was it. Not a talent exclusive to Humans, mind you, so it wouldn't be surprising if that's what happened with him."

_{What ams red dots?} _D'von pointed to the screen, oblivious to the conversation about him.

"Red dots?" Malcolm leaned closer to see what the boy was pointing at. "Oh...that room is the Galley, where our food is prepared. The red dots are to show that _that_," he pointed at one of the rectangles in question, "is a stove." He smiled at the boy. "I'll tell you what: when I come back, I'll go over this with you in more detail, okay?"

D'von thought about it—he wanted to know about the beds, and the baby ships, and all the rectangles and circles and squares _naow_!—but finally nodded. _{Hokay. But can ax one fing, please? What ams green splotches?}_ He pointed to the brown rectangles.

Reed smiled broadly. "Hydroponics. It's like...a garden. We grow plants there." He mussed the boy's hair, careful to not bump the horns, then slowly turned the chair and squatted in front of D'von. "Now then, Dr. Phlox has said I can go now. You'll be a good boy while I'm gone, won't you?"

_{Yahuh,} _he replied happily. _{Will be veryveryvery good, an' learn lotsa stuff, an' do lotsa hewps. Den yew gunda come back.}_

"That's right—I'll be back in a few hours."

_{Hokay. Den we can go see high...high-dough...da gardem. Like doin' gardem stuff.}_

"Well, I don't think we'll go as soon as I get back, but we'll go sometime soon, I promise. Maybe when your hoof is better and you can walk on it, okay?"

_{Hokay...we do dat.}_ With a smile he turned his attention back to the computer screen.

Standing, Malcolm found himself rooted to the spot. Maybe he shouldn't leave just yet. After all, it wasn't as though there was anything going on that required his immediate attention. How would D'von communicate with the Denobulan? What if there was some sort of medical emergency and Phlox had to leave? A firm hand gripped his shoulder, guiding him away from the tot.

Once they reached the exam table, Phlox handed him a small medical case and a padd. "Now then, once you've had your shower and gotten settled in, I'd like you to attach these monitoring devices to yourself—I've included detailed instructions on the padd, along with my report on Lehrites." Seeing the doubt clouding Malcolm's face, the doctor gave him a fatherly smile. "If we have any problems at all I shall not hesitate to contact you immediately, you have my word. So go get your reports from the Armoury, maybe get a snack from the Mess Hall, then relax in your quarters for a while. You can go to the gym for a little workout if you'd like...just don't overdo it. And call if you have any problems or experience anything out of the ordinary. I'd like you to return in three, maybe four hours, hmm?"

"I guess I'm just being silly, I know, but...I don't know...I just...what if..."

Phlox gave him a comforting clap on the back. "It's never easy leaving them for the first time. He'll be _fine_, Lieutenant...and so will you. Now...get out of my sickbay," he teased before walking to their bed and retrieving the padd that Malcolm had left there.

Taking a step toward the door Reed stopped, then realized he had to do one thing before he could leave. Heading back to D'von's side he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder, bending down and kissing him on the forehead. "I'll see you a little later. Have fun with Phlox, alright?"

The boy wrapped his arms around Malcolm's neck and gave him a firm hug. _{Yew haves fun, too, hokay? I be good, an' takes good care uv Ahnklah Fox.} _He planted a velvety kiss on the man's cheek then settled back in the chair, his attention shifting to the Denobulan. _{We gunda do skool stuff naow?}_

"He's eager to get started with 'school stuff'," Malcolm chuckled to the doctor, slowly making his way to the door. "Be sure to let me know if you need me for anything." Despite his slow pace he soon found himself in the corridor outside of Sickbay, quickening his pace only when he realized that he'd forgotten to change out of his pajamas and that he was still barefoot.

Inside Sickbay, Phlox studied the questions on the padd then looked at his eager pupil with amusement, chuckling. "If it's all right with you, I think we'll start with the lumpy heads, hmm?"

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Really hope this was worth the wait! For those interested in the deck plans, I used the schematics from the Star Trek LCARS Blueprint Database and Waxing Moon Design websites. I admit that I don't know how "accurate" the plans are, but I feel they do full justice to the ship and have found them to be exceedingly helpful. If you do a Google/Bing search be sure to look for "Waxing Moon Design" (singular) and not "designs" (plural) or you'll get a bunch of results for cross-stitch patterns..._

_I also recently realized that I'd left some editing notes tacked onto chapter 11—those have been deleted and the chapter reposted. Sorry about that!_


	13. Chapter 13

_PERSONAL NOTE:_ I know there has been a substantial delay between installments because (as we all know) real life often gets in the way of our fanfics. Unfortunately, real life has kind of dealt an additional boot to the head: several months ago my mother was diagnosed with lymphoma and with her treatment schedule, doctor's appointments, side effects, etc. writing has had to take a back seat while we kick the tumors in the collective butt…if you're the praying sort please remember her in your prayers (her name is Adaline), and if you're not please send some positive thoughts and energy her way...thanks! She just had her last scheduled chemo/rituxan treatment and has a scan coming up to see what sort of progress we've made vanquishing the tumors; the first three treatments shrunk them by about half so hopefully the last three treatments took care of the rest…

Story notes: As far as I know Chef appeared in only one episode (Catwalk), and even then all we saw of him were his legs. (Riker _posing_ as Chef in _"that" _episode doesn't count. In my opinion the only good things that came from TATV are the fanfic finale fixes (try saying that five times fast!) and a great video on YouTube. There is a marvelous finale fix called "The Disclaimer" over at the House of Tucker site that's well worth the read. The video is called "The Engineer Strikes Out," and, it's _fabulous_…)

Though Chef was mentioned in other episodes we never (to the best of my recollection) learned much about him except that he was a tad possessive of his domain. Somehow I've picked up the impression that he was Norwegian—I don't know if it was mentioned in passing on the show, or maybe in a book, fanfic, or article. Or it's entirely possible that I simply listen to too much "Prairie Home Companion". I know in a couple other fics he's been Italian, but in mine he's of Norwegian descent. If that's not canon, so be it. None of the rest of this story is, either, so why start now?

Standard disclaimers apply: Trek belongs to Paramount, Fierce Blue Ascot belongs to Sprint, and the Royal Albert Hall belongs to the UK. (The inspiration for using the Royal Albert Hall came from Serit.) The only things that belong to me are the original characters and the typos...

_CLARIFICATION: If anyone wonders about D'von switching back and forth between 'happy' and 'happies', it's not a typo or a moment of forgetfulness on my part. For D'von there is the state of being happy (happy), and there is either the creation of or a large amount of happiness (happies). Also, the occasional repetition and running together of words is normal for him, too. _

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

The engineer grinned as he read the padd in his hand. When he'd mentioned his idea to Hess at the beginning of their shift he hadn't really expected the project to snowball so spectacularly, but word about the operation had spread rapidly through Engineering and within the hour had leaked out to over half the crew. A number of individuals had signed up almost immediately; as his shift progressed Trip had heard from other members of the crew letting him know that their respective departments had decided to go in together on their contributions to this mission.

Tucking the padd into his pocket he set about his duties. Throughout his shift the device often chirped for his attention, and he'd hasten to check the messages as they came in. With each update his smile broadened—by lunchtime he'd gotten good news from the Quartermaster about his special request and reports had come back from Hydroponics, Crewman Zabel, Travis, and Hoshi, who was also relaying updates from a vast number of other crewmembers and departments. By the end of lunch Captain Archer had heard about the venture and had eagerly signed on, volunteering his private dining room as a staging area. Now, an hour before his shift ended, Trip heard back from Chef, Ensign Cutler, and the Astrometrics Department. From the looks of the growing list, almost everyone on board knew about the plan. _Almost_ everyone.

This was going to be _fabulous_. He could hardly wait to see the look on Malcolm's and D'von's faces.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Running his fingers through still-damp hair Malcolm sat on the bed with the padd Phlox had given him. He'd rather be settling in with his Armoury reports instead of reviewing instructions about Phlox's monitoring devices, but there was no way he'd have gone to his office wearing his pajamas. He acknowledged that it was his own fault for letting himself get so preoccupied, but it would have been nice if Phlox had at least offered a subtle reminder. Admittedly he could have ducked back into Sickbay to change when he realized what he'd done, but it had been hard enough leaving the first time. It _had _occurred to him that he could contact the Armoury and order someone to bring the padds to him—rank had its advantages—but he finally decided that since the paperwork had gone this long unattended, another few hours wouldn't make that much of a difference. Besides, when it came right down to it he was far more interested in reading about D'von's people, and the sooner he finished with the doctor's devices the sooner he could get to the doctor's report.

The monitors went on easily enough—first one small round circular one on each side of his forehead then the square, slender box on his chest, all of them to be left in place until he returned to Sickbay. They were apparently set to activate once he'd put them all on because they chirped in unison as soon as the one for his chest was in place. That chore tended to, Malcolm pulled on a loose-fitting sweatshirt that matched the grey sweatpants he'd already put on, stretched out on the bed, and opened the next file on the padd:

_FOR DISTRIBUTION TO THE CREW:_  
_REQUIRED READING BY ORDER OF CAPTAIN ARCHER_

_Lehrites: A Brief Overview_  
_By Dr. Phlox, Chief Medical Officer_

_By now you are all aware that we currently have on board a young Lehrite child named D'von as our guest. In order to prevent any problems or misunderstandings, it has been deemed prudent to supply information about our guest's people to the entire crew. It should be noted that this is by no means a comprehensive report on the Lehrite species, but is meant to provide basic information about aspects of their culture, behavior, abilities, and needs. Additional relevant information that comes to light will be made available in order to avoid any misunderstandings._

_PHYSIOLOGY, CHARACTERISTICS, AND ABILITIES_

_Natives of the planet Lehrus, Lehrites are bipedal ungulates closely resembling the fauns and/or satyrs mentioned in some Ancient Earth mythologies: that is, they have a "goatish" appearance. Though there are variations in eye and hair color, stature, and horn shape throughout the species, all possess cloven hooves, horizontal pupils, and an abundance of body hair. To the best of my knowledge all Lehrites have horns regardless of gender: my information indicates that touching their horns is considered an intimate contact reserved for mates or close family members. _

_Known to be an intelligent and inquisitive people, Lehrites are gregarious, uninhibited, outgoing folk who can be quite physically demonstrative. While it is a common Human custom to shake hands as a form of greeting, Lehrites have been known to not only shake hands but also to impart firm and fond hugs, strokes, and even kisses. If they sense that such contact is unwelcome, however, they will quickly cease and desist. They can also be extremely "chatty" which can sometimes lead to temporarily awkward situations, as they are prone to freely discussing topics that might be of a more private nature. But once they realize they have struck upon an uncomfortable subject they will more often than not change the subject to avoid offending others._

_Lehrites are an empathic species, able to sense the emotions of those around them. This is not the same as being telepathic: they cannot "read minds" or pry into the personal thoughts of those with whom they come into casual contact. Lehrites consider delving deeply into someone's emotions without permission to be a severe breach of protocol and manners, comparable to reading a person's personal log or diary or eavesdropping on a private conversation. However, it should be noted that their ability cannot be "turned off" and any strong emotions will be picked up on. They are capable of true telepathic contact only in instances where they have been Joined with someone. (Joining is covered in the section entitled Lehrite Social Structure, Children, and Joining.) __They very much enjoy the positive emotions of others and appear to actually require them to remain healthy. When confronted with negative emotions from others they will try to change the mood as quickly as possible, and when they are unhappy they will seek a prompt remedy to the situation._

_____There have been erroneous claims that Lehrites possess the ability to hypnotize a person with a mere glance; I assure you that this is not the case. There are reportedly a few Lehrites who do possess hypnotic abilities, which they use for medical purposes to alleviate pain or to calm agitated patients. The notion that they could (or would) use such an ability without permission, or for any malicious purpose, is patently absurd and should be given no credence._

_The majority of Lehrite vessels are purportedly devoted to providing entertainment, with the crews catering to the needs of the various species they meet up with. There are confirmed reports of services being rendered to such diverse species as Tellarites, Xyrillians, Denobulans, Rigelians, Kreetassans, and Andorians as well as rumors that some Humans and even a few Klingons have made use of Lehrite hospitality. (I do have strong doubts about the latter, though.)_

_They have a relaxed approach to life that some have mistaken for laziness, but nothing could be further from the truth. Indeed, they are energetic, conscientious workers showing a diligence and eye for detail that many would be hard-pressed to equal. They are an innately creative people, producing splendid works of art and music. Lehrite artisans are thought by some to be the finest craftsmen anywhere, with their areas of expertise seeming to vary depending upon what region of their homeworld they are from. Whether pottery, metalcraft, woodcarving, textiles, or jewelry-making—or any other crafts—they take great pleasure and pride in their work and will refuse to allow their pieces to leave their possession if they feel the workmanship is the least bit substandard._

_They are also firm adherents to what they refer to as "The Law of Reciprocity", or what Humans would call Quid pro quo: what one receives must be repaid in kind. Although this can refer to their being paid for services or material goods they have provided, first and foremost it applies to a Lehrites' reimbursement of others for such things. Perhaps through misunderstandings or problems with language translations, or perhaps even blatant racism, some species hold to the misconception that Lehrites practice thievery and/or deceitful behavior. Consequently Lehrites have become enormously concerned with paying their debts and failure to repay someone is viewed as a grave breach of protocol. They are, however, open to and even enjoy bartering with their clients to reach a mutually agreeable arrangement._

_DIETARY CONCERNS—IMPORTANT!_

_Lehrites are ruminants, possessing four microbe- and enzyme-filled stomach compartments as part of their digestive systems. A good portion of digestion is achieved through microbiological action, with a natural byproduct of this microbial activity being the production of large quantities of gas. Consequently our guest will in all likelihood be a prolific belcher. This is an entirely normal and natural thing for Lehrites and is no cause for concern, nor is it an indication of any lack of social grace. Another aspect of the digestive process is the regurgitation and re-chewing of their food, but this is usually done while they are resting._

_Meal times are less structured and scheduled—rather than the three meals a day that most Humans partake in, Lehrites are more accustomed to snacking throughout the day in addition to eating full meals, so it should come as no surprise if D'von eats more frequently than we do. Additionally, Lehrites often rest briefly after dining as an aid to digestion._

_These people are herbivores by necessity since they are unable to digest meat products of ANY kind (including broths, gravies or sauces containing meat products), or eggs. If there are any_ _doubts as to the contents of a particular dish it would be best to err on the side of caution, as the introduction of even small amounts of meat or meat products to a Lehrite's digestive system can cause severe discomfort or illness. Although Lehrites have a remarkably keen sense of smell and can usually discern which foods could prove harmful it would be best to not take any chances in this area._

_LEHRITE SOCIAL STRUCTURE, CHILDREN, AND "JOINING"_

_Although not much is known about their social hierarchy we do know that Lehrites are a communal species, living in large groups referred to as "herds". It is thought that theirs is a matriarchy with each herd led by an elder female. According to several sources including the Vulcan Database, Lehrites are a peaceful, non-violent species who will act aggressively only to protect members of their community or family. __Little is known about Lehrite children because they are kept isolated from non-Lehrites until deemed to be of an "appropriate" age. This may be based on cultural beliefs or to protect the children from injury or disease. Lehrite children are reportedly susceptible to respiratory ailments and ear infections, so it would make sense for the parents to restrict exposure to alien pathogens and microbes._

_Though information about child-rearing practices is sparse, it is known that Lehrites have a practice called "Joining", in which the members of the community establish a mental link with one another. Joining is initiated by the mutual stroking, with the fingers and/or palms, of the faces of the participants—usually along the cheeks or lower facial region—followed by the participants touching their foreheads together. Once it has been formed the bond produced is permanent. Subsequent contacts serve not only as a method of strengthening the bond, an intimate means of communication, or as displays of affection but are also used by healthy Lehrites to render aid when a member of their community falls ill or is injured (as documented in the Denobulan Medical Journal series 'Alien Medical Practices and Their Practical Applications')._

_From first-hand observation we know that our visitor is friendly and outgoing, though he may sometimes still be disoriented by encounters with new people or situations. It is safe to assume that he has never encountered Humans before—Denobulans or Vulcans either, for that matter—but he appears to have heard at least a little about our respective species and seems enthusiastic to learn more. So as not to overwhelm him it would be best to, in the words of Commander Tucker, "give him a little breathin' room" for the time being. So far he has shown remarkable adaptability and his ability to acclimate is improving rapidly: I predict that it will not be long before he is able to comfortably interact with all of us. This brings about the subject of our only apparent dilemma..._

_It is now common knowledge that a member of the crew has been inadvertently Joined with our young Lehrite friend; though there seem to have been no ill effects for either of them, the long-term ramifications for both parties are as yet unknown. In order to avoid similar occurrences, crewmembers are urged to use sound judgment when dealing with D'von: though he is certainly not a threat to our well being he is very young and inexperienced in the ways of non-Lehrites. He is also a long way from home and doesn't have his family to provide guidance and comfort; we should bear this in mind during our dealings with him._

_We should remember to show him kindness and courtesy, but we must also remember that he may seek to reach out to others in the same manner that he did with our aforementioned crewmate. Bear in mind that the facial stroking which precedes Joining is a signal granting permission to proceed. If faced with a situation in which you believe D'von may be seeking to establish a mental bond you must simply refuse to participate: refrain from touching his face and explain to him gently but firmly that you do not want him to proceed. That should be sufficient to prevent any further attempts at Joining but if you deem it necessary move beyond his reach, as direct physical contact is required for Joining to take place. As stated earlier, Lehrites are highly intelligent. It should not take much time for D'von to learn that Joining is not a common Human practice._

Oh bloody hell. Common knowledge? Everyone on board knew what had happened? Damned bloody fantastic. "I am _never_ going to live this down," Malcolm muttered to himself, then heaved a sigh. His displeasure quickly dispersed, though: it was a small ship, after all, so it wasn't really surprising that word would rapidly spread throughout the crew. What was done was done, and dwelling on it wouldn't do anyone any good.

Reading over the beginning of the report again, Reed couldn't help chuckling. It probably wasn't very polite of him but he kept envisioning the Vulcans' reaction to their first contact with this "gregarious, uninhibited, outgoing, physically demonstrative" species. And for some god-awful reason he now had an unshakable mental image of Ambassador Soval receiving "firm and fond hugs, strokes, and even kisses" from a group of them; he decided that such an experience would likely trigger a massive stroke or maybe cardiac arrest in a Vulcan. Probably both. Little wonder they'd never pursued further contact with the Lehrites. Their loss as far as he was concerned—a few fond hugs would probably do them a world of good—and maybe the Lehrites' gain.

Putting the padd aside he closed his eyes and leaned back on the pillow, allowing himself to further visualize the Vulcan ambassador amidst a small herd of Lehrites. After a few entertaining moments the image of his father replaced that of Soval. That brought him up short and he sat up with a jolt. How was he going to explain the boy to his family? He was sure Maddie would be positively giddy at the prospect of being an aunt, but his parents...? And what would they say when they found out about Malcolm winding up Joined to the lad? Malcolm scrubbed at his face as he contemplated their reaction. Mother would eventually take it in stride, he supposed—that was her nature with most things—but Father...dear god, what would his _father_ say about all of this? He'd probably hit the roof, and he'd _certainly_ never let his son hear the end of it.

"That's _not_ going to happen,'" he scolded himself aloud as he began pacing around the room. "We _are_ going to find his people and reunite him with his family."

'And if you _don't_? If it turns out they _are_ dead? Or if you can't _find_ them? What do you do then, _hmmmm_? Hand him off to the first Lehrites you happen upon? Or maybe take him back to _Earth_ and pawn him off on your _sister_, or your _parents_?'

Good lord, Trip was right—he _was_ a pessimist. "Maddie will _adore_ him. I _know_ she will," he argued back at himself. "My _parents_ will just have to learn to accept him." The image of Soval being cuddled by Lehrites returned. "A few fond hugs would do _Father_ a world of good, too, I'm sure. Besides, who says I'd have to _leave_ him with them?"

'Oh, so you'd do what—resign your commission?' his inner voice scoffed. 'Stay on Earth with him?'

"Who says I'd have to resign? I _could_ just request reassignment, you know. There are _plenty_ of things I could—"

'Oh, _there's_ a _grand_ idea,' The Pessimist sneered rudely. 'You'd be _miserable _planetbound and you _know_ it. And if _you're_ miserable the boy will be, too.'

Malcolm smiled serenely. "I could _never_ be miserable as long as I'm with him. So...Bugger. _Off_."

Hearing no further remarks from within he smiled more broadly, smug in his victory. "That's more like it." With that battle won he considered what to do next. Checking the time, he frowned. The Mess Hall would soon be filling with the lunch crowd, and he wasn't hungry enough to go displaying himself with the monitors in place. Well, maybe it didn't look too bad. He went into the bathroom and cast a look in the mirror. No, he most definitely would _not _be going to a crowded Mess Hall with those _things_ on his head. "I look like a bloody pinball machine," he grumbled, staring unhappily at the flashing buttons on his forehead and self-consciously touching his chest to feel the monitor through his shirt. Although, it occurred to him, if he had his uniform on, maybe that one wouldn't show. No...on second thought, a uniform would only hide the _lights_; the shape of the box fastened to him would certainly be visible. The loose sweatshirt he had on now hid the thing far better than a form-fitting uniform would. And nothing he did with his hair would camouflage the discs on his forehead. He tried. Several times.

Conceding defeat with a sigh he returned to his bed and perched on the edge. He _could_ probably go to the Armoury and pick up those padds after all—anyone he encountered _there_ would know better than to make sport of him. On the other hand, he didn't really _feel_ like doing paperwork. Or much of anything else, for that matter...he wasn't sure _what_ he wanted to do. Restless boredom wasn't entirely unfamiliar to him but it had been ages since he'd had to fend off the sensation. Usually running a diagnostic on the weapons' systems did the trick—along with a few practice shots at a stray asteroid for good measure—but even that didn't sound appealing to him at the moment. Malcolm stretched out on the bed with a sigh.

'You should probably at _least_ let your family know what's _happened_," The Pessimist contritely offered an olive branch. 'You know...just in case. Best they should be prepared if you _do_ wind up bringing him home with you.'

"Oh, _there's_ a _grand_ idea," he shot The Pessimist's own words back at him as he stared at the ceiling. "Dear Mother and Father, I'm sure you've been wondering whether I have as yet found any interesting _souvenirs_ to bring home...well, as a matter of _fact_..." Sitting up he sighed again, hating the fact that The Pessimist was right. He _should_ write home to let them know about D'von. Of course...he didn't have to do it right _now_. And they didn't have to know about the Joining anytime soon.

He made a mental list of things to do during his time away from Sickbay: stretch out on the bed for a little light reading, then to the gym for some time on the treadmill. By the time he finished there the Mess Hall would be clear and he could dine in peace. Then he could swing by the Armoury for those padds before returning to his quarters—the time at the gym would necessitate another shower and change of clothes. He could catch up on his paperwork for a bit, and then head back to Sickbay. Writing a letter home was conspicuously absent from his mental 'to do' list.

Heading to his desk, he toyed with the idea of calling the doctor to make sure everything was all right. Hand hesitating over the comm button, he grudgingly vetoed the idea. Phlox had promised to call if there were any problems and the Denobulan wasn't the sort to say what he didn't mean. So instead Malcolm again laid on the bed and tried to relax. The idea of the letter, however, would not go away, and he sprang back up in frustration. After pacing across the floor for a few minutes he decided to work on a letter home once he returned from the Mess Hall and get the padds from the Armoury on his way back to Sickbay. Fetching a book and settling back on the bed he finally allowed himself to fully relax, satisfied with his amended plans.

He was somewhat less satisfied when he awoke over an hour later, but chose to not dwell on it. Though he preferred to hold to a precise schedule, an _occasional_ opportunity to sloth off a bit provided a pleasant change of pace that was not entirely unwelcome. Not that he'd ever _admit_ that to anyone: he had a reputation to keep, after all. Falling asleep had dramatically cut into his plans for the gym, though, and he chose to forgo the trip to C Deck altogether. Jogging or biking would necessitate another shower and clothing change, which would cut further into his remaining free time. Remembering Phlox's flashing gizmos on his forehead clinched it—no trip to the gym today. Some form of exercise, however, was in order, and he knew just the thing.

Many people were blissfully ignorant of the connection to the martial arts and thought tai chi was simply a series of stretching exercises geared toward helping older people stay limber. Until he'd taken the time in his early teen years to look into it further, Malcolm had been one of them. He'd first thought the exercises would be not only useless but mind-numbingly dull and repetitive, but had been happily surprised to learn quite the opposite—it had proven to be the best way for him to clear his mind when he was feeling overly stressed or muddled. One more thing to thank Angela and Jeremy Bascom for: if they hadn't taught him about tai chi and even taken him to classes with them he might still think of it as "geezer exercise". He was so deeply focused on the exercises that he didn't hear the comm chirp the first time, almost thirty minutes into the session.

The second chirp caught his attention and he quickly thumbed the button, settling into the chair at his desk. "Reed here." His heart skipped a beat at the sound of the doctor's voice.

"Ah, Mr. Reed," Phlox chirped cheerily. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Malcolm struggled to keep the worry from his voice. "Is everything all right? Is there a problem? I can be there in a minute or so if—"

"Oh goodness, no," Phlox's voice took on an apologetic tone. "I'm so sorry—I didn't mean to worry you. It's just that when you were getting ready to leave Sickbay, we were concentrating so much on what to do if there were any problems with _D'von_ that I neglected to tell you to contact me if _you_ had any problems. So I thought it would be prudent to check in with you."

The tension drained from Malcolm. "No problems here," he assured the doctor with a relieved smile. "And I promise to call if there are. How are you two getting along? Lessons going well?"

"Oh yes, very well," Phlox happily confirmed. "We're taking a little break right now...Chef stopped in to go over menu ideas with me and brought a few snacks for D'von, so they're having a little visit right now. You know, I never realized how much use Chef makes of the Hydroponics Department—he apparently has an entire section devoted to not only his herbs but also several varieties of wild plants and flowers. A good portion of his quarters is devoted to growing foodstuffs as well. He says most of the ones he grows are commonly referred to as _weeds _by those who are, to use his phrasing, 'too uninformed to know any better'. D'von is quite interested in the subject and I suspect he's going to want a tour of Chef's private garden when he's released." Phlox paused, sounding almost embarrassed as he asked, "Have you..._heard_ anything—from D'von, I mean—since you left here?"

It hadn't even occurred to him. "No...I haven't," he admitted with trepidation, feeling suddenly negligent. "Does that mean there's a problem?"

"I don't believe so, no. It's just that...well...may I ask what you were doing just before I commed you?"

"Exercising. I decided to forego the gym and do some tai chi in my quarters."

"Ahh, I think that explains it," Phlox said with happy satisfaction. "You see," he anticipated Reed's next question, "a short time ago D'von began inquiring about you. I suspect that the meditative quality of the exercises you were doing caused a slight alteration in your brain waves, and though he couldn't quite 'hear' you because you were so far away, he obviously sensed that something was…different, and it made him momentarily concerned."

"He asked about me? He's able to talk now?" Malcolm tried to hide his disappointment—he'd hoped to be there when D'von began talking—but at the same time, he knew it was a good thing for the lad to be able to talk again.

"Not _talking_, no," the doctor comforted him. "We _did_ go through a few vocal exercises to see how he's progressing, but he's still experiencing some discomfort so speaking will have to wait a _little_ bit longer. I may have him try again this evening or perhaps in the morning. But he was still able to let me know that he wanted to know about you...he picked up on using the computer rather quickly, it seems, and was able to call up the schematics for E Deck again, then began gesturing. I suspect there was a short period of time when he couldn't quite home in on you, so to speak, and he wanted to know if you were still in your quarters and what you were doing. He even mimicked some of the movements," he added with a chuckle. "Once I assured him that you were still there and that it looked like you were probably doing some sort of exercises, he settled back into his visit with Chef."

"Are you _sure_ I shouldn't come back now?" Reed asked, certain that he should. It was a struggle to keep from heading out the door.

"Quite sure, Lieutenant. Everything's fine, and you still have a few hours to yourself before I want you back here. Relax, enjoy yourself, and we'll see you in a couple hours, hmm?"

"Well," Malcolm hesitated, "if you're _certain_ you don't need me to come…" At a brisk walk he could surely be there in well under a minute. If he ran—

"I understand how you feel, Lieutenant—I have children too, remember? I realize that the first time away from a young one is difficult but I assure you that D'von is fine and that there is no reason for you to rush back here. We're going to share a little snack courtesy of Chef—something called burdock chips, and some candied violets—then D'von is going to help me with a few light chores around here. He'll probably be ready for a nap after that, and then we'll do some light physical therapy for his foot. What I'd like _you _to do," the doctor gently instructed, "is to try to relax and enjoy yourself for a while. Read a book, do some more of those tai chi exercises—I think D'von rather enjoyed them once he realized what they were—have a relaxing lunch, do _something_ other than worry about whether you should come rushing back here. Fretting will just throw off the readings I'm trying to gather from the monitors. If it will help, I'll even lift my ban on you returning to the Armoury, provided you don't overexert yourself."

His qualms finally squelched, Malcolm relaxed. "No, that's all right. I've decided to stop at the Armoury and pick up those padds on my way back there instead. Right now I think I'll head to the Mess Hall for lunch, then come back here to catch up on some correspondence." Burdock chips? Candied violets didn't sound _too_ horrid, but..._burdock chips_? He wondered what other weeds Chef might be sneaking into the crew's meals.

"Marvelous," Phlox approved happily. "And as before, if there are any problems I'll contact you."

"The same here. And Doctor…thank you for everything. Give the little mite a hug for me, would you? Tell him I'll see him soon."

The Denobulan chuckled. "You're welcome. And yes, I'd be happy to relay the message, and the hug." With another chuckle Phlox cut the connection.

Slumping back in the chair, Malcolm pondered the conversation. Had he _really_ just passed up the opportunity to get back to work? Oh, not only passed it up but eagerly dismissed it, and for what? To lounge about and 'catch up on some correspondence'? No, he had to admit, that wasn't the _real_ reason: deep down he knew that if he went to the Armoury he'd no doubt become engrossed in some task or another, and that would delay his return to Sickbay. Well...that wasn't entirely accurate. It would delay his return to _D'von_, and that would be _totally _unacceptable. He smiled warmly at the thought of the lad, the smile broadening at the idea of D'von mimicking tai chi moves. How hard would it be to teach a Lehrite tai chi? He'd have to ask the boy if he _wanted _to learn it, of course, but felt certain that D'von would be more than willing to give it a go. The tot was dashedly inquisitive, after all, and seemed eager to learn about _everything_. And maybe D'von could teach him about...what? Burdock chips? _Bleck_.

His mind started dancing happily at the thought of all the things he'd be able to teach the boy but a growling stomach brought him back to reality. Priorities: first lunch—hold the burdock chips, thank you—then lesson plans. Or maybe he could work on both at the same time. Grabbing Phlox's padd from the bed and seizing a fresh padd from his desk drawer, Malcolm headed for the Mess Hall.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

His newfound knowledge of Chef's penchant for weeds made Malcolm bypass the salad altogether. A particularly scrumptious-looking hot pastrami sandwich, decadently thick with meat and oozing with provolone caught his eye and he greedily seized the plate. Once he'd gotten a large glass of milk to go with it he settled at the nearest table in the otherwise uninhabited room. It had been his intention to eat quickly so he could get to planning straightaway, but the marvelous aroma invited him to linger. The first bite sealed the deal and he slowed his eating to a crawl, occasionally stopping to take a few sips of milk. Only after he'd finished half of his sandwich did he again contemplate the padds.

It had seemed an easy enough endeavor when he'd been in his quarters, but now that he was actually giving it a go he saw how far in over his head he was. "My god, what was I _thinking_?" he murmured softly to himself as he realized that he hadn't the faintest idea where to even begin. D'von had mentioned going to school, and reading...but at what level? The boy certainly wouldn't have been reading English, and aside from the plaques he had 'seen' in the Lehrite catacombs, _he_ knew nothing about _their_ written language. And what sort of math skills did the boy have? Was he at all familiar with any of the sciences? Did Lehrite children even _study_ science, or history, or philosophy? And what about religion? Phlox had made no mention of the subject in his writings. "How do I figure out where to start?" he wondered aloud as he scrubbed a finger along the front of his chin. With a deep breath and a sigh Malcolm started reading over Phlox's report again in search of anything that might help. Three readings later he still hadn't spotted anything—with the exception of art and music, which had never been his strongest subjects—to help steer him in the right direction.

"The first thing, I suppose," he finally decided aloud, "is to make a list of potential subjects." He spoke quietly to himself as he began the list: "Art and music, of course…mathematics, English…algebra? Mmm, suppose I'd best see how mathematics goes first. Biology…hmm, I wonder if that would technically be xenobiology? History…geography—"

"Don't forget warp theory."

Malcolm almost dismissed it as the return of The Pessimist but realized half a heartbeat later that the deadpan voice was far too deep to be his own. Head snapping up, he found himself looking at Chef's dispassionate countenance. Placing a small covered serving platter on the table, the tall blonde settled his broad frame into the chair across from the lieutenant.

"I…I didn't…"Malcolm stammered, still surprised by the man's unexpected presence, "I didn't hear you come in."

"You were preoccupied," Chef dismissed it casually. "Same thing happens to me when I'm working on a new recipe." Giving his short-cropped beard a brief stroke he studied the young man, his baritone voice slow and deliberate as he continued. "Funny thing, though…sometimes if I get _too_ wrapped up in a new concoction, or get worrying about who it's for or fretting about whether it'll turn out, I find myself getting all flustered…if I'm not careful I wind up forgetting something or measuring wrong, or misreading a label and putting in the wrong ingredients. One time—now remember, I was a young upstart at the time, just starting to get a reputation for myself and fool enough to let it go to my head—I was making a pie for a family get-together. I'd had all manner of ideas about fancy stuff I could make for the affair, give me a chance to show off for the family, and they told me to just bring a pie. A _pie_. A simple, basic, pumpkin pie. Probably goes without saying that I was more than a little put out, and I stewed and sputtered about it the whole time I was making the thing. Well, they served it up, and it was _horrible_. Turns out instead of cinnamon I'd grabbed a container of a special blend of rather potent chili powder, and I'd been far too generous with it. I let my wounded ego distract me so much that I didn't even realize my mistake…until everyone started trying to _eat_ that mistake, that is." His bright blue eyes twinkled at the memory and he gave his beard another stroke. "They _still_ won't let me bring pie to any of the family gatherings unless I promise to eat the first piece."

Reed stared across at the usually taciturn man, unsure what the purpose of the story was. "That's, uh…very interesting." And it was, in a strange way…even if he didn't have a clue what the cook was getting at.

Chef's Nordic features remained neutral. "He's a sweet little boy, and it's going to be a big responsibility taking care of him. But getting _too _wrapped up in what to do, thinking too much and all at once about everything that it entails…it's just going to clutter your thinking." He motioned to the padd in Malcolm's hands. "For instance, sitting here trying to lay out a life's worth of schooling in a single sitting. I'm not saying planning's a bad thing—I wouldn't be able to put together decent meals for the crew if I didn't know a thing or two about planning. But getting so flustered that you can't think straight will be counterproductive for both of you.

"Now, I realize I'm not very good at giving advice unless it deals with food, but it seems to me that before you try pumping a bunch of information _into_ the little fellow, you might want to learn a little more _from_ him."

Reed opened his mouth to protest but no sound came. Then a small chuckle escaped as he shook his head. "I beg to differ, Chef. You're quite good at dispensing sage advice. No pun intended." He shoved the padds aside. "I'm getting ahead of myself with this, and it _is_ rather clouding my thinking."

"I thought it might be. Either that or the pastrami is sub-standard."

"Hm? Beg pardon?"

"You didn't finish your lunch," Chef gave a tiny nod toward the half-finished sandwich. "So, either you're preoccupied or the sandwich is no good."

"No, it's excellent—best I've had in ages," he assured the cook, then eyed the covered platter still sitting in the center of the table. Malcolm screwed up his courage. "May I ask what's in there?" Maybe he was in luck and it wasn't the same platter.

Chef's poker face fell away, and he fairly beamed as he lifted the lid. "Your little man really loved these things so I made up another batch. You know, I don't often get a chance to make these sorts of things—I think I'm the only one on board who'd eat them. Well, maybe Phlox, too—he's _always_ keen to try new things."

"Burdock chips and candied violets," Malcolm tried to sound upbeat. "Phlox told me about them. D'von enjoyed them, did he?"

"Oh, yes," Chef glowed. "Suppose you'd call them crisps, though, right?" He lifted the plate and held it out to Malcolm, who tried to look enthusiastic as he took a few of them in his fingers.

"Right...crisps." He slid the smallest of them into his mouth and gave an experimental munch before chewing in earnest, surprised to find them to be very tasty. "That's really quite good," he told the cook as he eagerly seized some more of the treats. "Is that chili powder?"

"A much milder blend than what went into the pie, I assure you—didn't want to overdo it for the little fellow—and a dash of salt," Chef confirmed, setting the platter closer to the lieutenant. "Speaking of our guest," he added as he slowly pushed himself from the chair, "time for me to get back to the galley and get to work. The doctor gave me an expanded list of Lehrite-friendly foods and spices to work with, so I want to go through my files and find some special treats for our young friend." He offered another of his rare smiles. "If you need anything for him—anything at all, day or night—you just say the word." He motioned to the platter. "If you don't finish those, just take them back to Sickbay with you—between the doctor and your little boy, they won't last long."

"Thank you—I'll do that." After Chef left Malcolm picked up one of the violets and smiled, admiring the way the light twinkled on the sugar crystals as he twirled the stem slowly between his fingers. "My little boy," he sighed, plucking the blossom from the stem and popping the delicate confection into his mouth. He liked the sound of that.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Once he'd finished his lunch and returned to his quarters Malcolm tried again to write to his family. Although he'd given up on writing to his parents after almost a dozen failed starts—the difficulty of the task had really come as no surprise to him—the letter to Maddie had come together with surprising ease and was now safely tucked away in his desk drawer waiting to be sent. He could try again on his parents' letter in a day or so and send them together.

Now, sauntering down the corridor with the padds from the Armoury in one hand and the plate of violets and crisps balanced on the other, he headed back to Sickbay with a spring in his step. Not only was he feeling rather pleased with himself for getting at least one of the letters done but telling his sister about the lad had made him impatient to be with the boy again. As he drew near the door, though, his pace slowed. Something felt…off; a feeling of drunken giddiness crept slowly over him, and he realized after a few seconds that something was making D'von deliriously happy. Stopping for a moment he took a few deep breaths to clear his head before going the last few feet. Tightening his grip on the padds and using his knuckle to trigger the door, Malcolm stepped over the threshold.

If not for the waves of pure bliss washing over him he probably would have been repulsed: still clad in Hoshi's flowery camisole, D'von was sprawled on the bed, the dressing gone from his hoof and the doctor's osmotic eel firmly stuck to the bottom of the appendage. Reed's mind briefly wandered to the question of why it was called an eel when it looked so very much like a starfish, then he stepped forward and silently stared glassy-eyed at the creature on D'von's foot. Hoof. Whatever. The bigger puzzle remained—how could having an eel (or starfish, or whatever) plastered to him be making the lad so happy?

_{Hai, Maoookiiim!} _D'von slurred giddily, slowly lifting his leg into the air. _{Looook! I ams givin' da eel haaappies! Ams fun…wanda try?}_

_No, that's all right—you keep on just as you are. I'll wait right over here._ Mystery solved: happy eels made for happy little Lehrite boys, it seemed. He spoke in a slow, lightheaded voice as he watched Phlox carefully pushed the boy's leg back down. "Hellooo, doctor. Everything's going well here, I see."

Approaching the lieutenant, Phlox studied him with curiosity. "Yeees…but are you all right?"

"Oh fine…fiiine…" he replied in a faraway voice. "It's just that…the eel…you've got a _veeery _happy eel there, you know. Really enjoys his work. Her work. Its work." His eyes were barely focused as he stared at Phlox. "I guess I just wasn't expecting to find out what it feels like to be a happy eel." Absently dropping the padds onto the exam table and handing the platter to the Denobulan, Malcolm plunked down into the nearby chair and turned his attention back to the boy on the bed. "The eel is happy, and D'von's happy to be making the eel so happy, and…_wow_. I could feel it out in the corridor, you know." His eyes drifted back to the doctor, his tone still dreamy. "I do believe that the tot's literally drunk on happiness."

"I suspect you are, too," Phlox observed, setting the platter on the exam table next to the padds.

"I _was_, I think," Malcolm agreed with far less concern than the doctor. "It's fading a bit now. I was expecting to feel _D'von_ when I got back here, but I _wasn't_ expecting the eel. Going to have to stop letting myself get…_ambushed_ like that, though I'm not quite sure how."

"Nor am I…but we'll figure out something. You just stay there, and I'll be back shortly to remove those monitors."

"Riiight…I'll wait here," Reed nodded his consent, watching with great interest as the doctor returned to the boy's bed, tenderly removed the eel and studied D'von's hoof. Malcolm expected the boy to object to the eel's removal but D'von seemed to hardly notice as the creature was peeled away and put back in its tank.

_{Bai, eeeel,}_ D'von drawled happily. _{Faaank yew for doin' hewps for my hooof. Ams glad I could gives yew haaappies.} _He was barely aware of Phlox manipulating his hoof and leg.

Studying the wound again the doctor nodded his approval. "I think we can leave the dressing off for a bit," he announced. "It will be better to let the air to it for a while. It might hurt a bit if you bump it, but otherwise it should be fine. And remember, I don't want you trying to walk on it just yet."

_{Hokay…I 'members,}_ the tot assured him with a crisp nod, already showing signs of 'sobering up'. _{No more priddy banage, huh?}_ he asked with disappointment.

His head rapidly clearing Malcolm stood and stepped over to the bed, unable to bear being away another moment. "The doctor thinks it best to leave off the bandage for now…but you've still got the one on your horn," he offered as consolation. "That one's going to have to stay on a while longer."

_{Hokay.}_ D'von raised his arms and Malcolm scooped him up in a firm hug. After planting a kiss on the man's cheek, D'von cocked his head. _{Whycome yew gots blinky lights on yore head?}_

"They're monitors that Phlox asked me to wear for a while, but he's going to take them off in just a bit." Settling on the bed with D'von on his lap, Malcolm gave the boy another squeeze. "So…did you have a good time with Phlox?"

_{Oh, yes…wunnerful time. Did skool stuff wiv Ahnklah Fox, an' Ahnklah Jeff bringded snacks for us so did visits wiv him, den had liddle naps, den wokes up an' Ahnklah Fox hewped makes me priddy wiv da hairbrush, an' I did some hewps, an' den met da eel, den yew cameded back. Yew did fun stuff, too?}_

"Yes, I suppose I did," Reed admitted gamely. "I took a shower and did a little reading, then had a nap, too, and did some exercises…went to the Mess Hall for lunch, and had some of the same snacks that you had. As a matter of fact, Chef made more and asked me to bring them along." He looked around, momentarily forgetting what he'd done with them.

Phlox stepped up, retrieving the tray and setting it on the bed next to D'von. Lifting the cover he smiled at the boy. "Here you are. Now, while you're having a snack I'm going to borrow Mr. Reed for a bit so I can remove the monitors he's wearing."

_{Gunda take off da blinky lights?} _the tot asked as he munched a violet.

"Yes," Malcolm smiled as he stood, "the doctor is going to take off the blinky lights."

_{Dat's too bad…ams priddy. Looks like yew gots horn buds. Priddy blinky horn buds.}_

Gingerly feeling the nubs with his fingertips Malcolm mulled over the boy's comment and found himself liking the idea of having horn buds. "You know, I hadn't realized that. I'm glad you like them...but they still have to come off."

_{Dat's hokay…yew ams priddy wivout dem, too.}_

The lieutenant's smile broadened at the compliment and he gave D'von a loving kiss on the forehead. "Thank you. I think you're pretty, too." Snatching a violet from the platter he lovingly tapped the lad on the nose with it and stepped away from the bed. "You stay there and enjoy your snack. I'll be back soon so save me some of those, okay?"

_{Hokay,} _the tot giggled as he popped a burdock chip into his mouth.

Phlox guided Reed to the exam table and set about removing the monitors. "I hope you didn't find these too cumbersome."

"No, not at all. And D'von thinks they're pretty—he says they look like horn buds. But I have to admit I was more than a little self-conscious about wearing them in public."

"That's not at all unusual," the Denobulan assured him before looking over Malcolm's shoulder at the opening doors of Sickbay. "Hello, Subcommander," he cheerily greeted T'Pol. "How may I help you?"

Malcolm felt D'von's demeanor change instantly, the boy mentally flinching at the sight of the Vulcan. He looked over his shoulder to cast a quick reassuring look at the tot—who was nervously fingering his pouch—then turned his attention to their visitor. "Hello, Subcommander."

"Lieutenant," she acknowledged his greeting with a nod as she approached the men, padd in hand. "Doctor, to answer your question, I do not require your assistance. I have been considering the lieutenant's situation and believe I have a viable suggestion."

Sensing D'von's growing unease, Malcolm squelched his annoyance—his _situatio__n_?—and mustered a polite smile that he hoped looked sincere.

"What did you have in mind, Subcommander?"

"There are various meditation techniques that might help diminish any adverse effects that you may be experiencing."

The flurry of nervous apprehension from D'von washed away Malcolm's initial irritation. The tot was cringing both inside and out, his anxiety and desire to escape the woman's notice threatening to fill Reed's mind to the brim. _D'von, it's all right. Subcommander T'Pol isn't going to hurt you. She was in the blue room with us and bandaged your hoof, remember?_ The boy calmed a tiny bit, making it easier for Reed to think.

"To be quite honest I _have_ had a few brief instances of disorientation," Malcolm admitted while studiously ignoring the silent, incredulous look Phlox was shooting at him, "but I think I've got things under control for the time being." He didn't want to seem rude, though. "Would it be safe to assume that these would be Vulcan meditation techniques?

That sent one of T'Pol's eyebrows skyward. "Some are, yes. But I have also been researching several methods common on Earth and believe that some form of meditation, regardless of planet of origin, could prove helpful."

Damn—he hadn't meant to insult her but realized that his poorly articulated misgivings had doubtless come across as at least a little racist, which was certainly not his intention. He clicked into damage-control mode. "It's not the planet of origin that concerns me…it's just that I was under the impression that Vulcan meditation is rather involved when compared to Human techniques. Would I even be able to learn to do it properly?"

"I thought the advanced forms might prove too demanding so I excluded those from my research. Besides, I believe that the simpler forms would be more effective for your purposes. You have shown yourself to be a highly-disciplined individual so I am fairly sure that you would have little difficulty learning 'to do it properly' if you chose to do so."

"You know," Phlox encouraged, "it's well worth considering, Lieutenant."

"I'm not dismissing the idea out of hand...and I _do_ appreciate your efforts, Subcommander. Have you put together any information on these techniques?"

"Of course," she stated flatly, handing the padd to the lieutenant. "I thought it would be helpful for you to familiarize yourself with basic information about the various options. I must confess, though, that I am unfamiliar with the term 'tai chi'."

Malcolm expertly stifled a smile—it wasn't every day that a Human could teach a Vulcan anything. "I don't think it's technically considered to be a form of meditation. It's a Chinese martial art, but there _is_ a meditative aspect to it. There are several books and articles in the ship's library, if you're interested."

"That could prove useful. I should return to my duties now, but I can look up the information and compare it to the data I've already gathered."

"Before you go, Subcommander, could I get your help with one other thing?" Reed asked.

"If I am able. What do you require?"

"Well...it's D'von. He's still quite nervous around you, and I'm hoping that if you had a little talk with him it might help ease his anxiety."

Now it was the Vulcan's turn to cringe, if only inwardly. "There is no reason for him to be 'nervous'."

"Well, _we_ both know that, but _he's_ not entirely convinced. He's not as uneasy as he was in Decon, but for whatever reason he's still a bit unsettled around you." He could see that she was dubious. "It's a tad distracting having him getting tense and apprehensive whenever he's around you."

"I would imagine so. Very well, Lieutenant, I will...have a talk with him." She looked over at the boy and made eye contact.

With a panicked squeak D'von snatched the blanket from the foot of the bed and threw it over his head.

T'Pol turned back to Reed, one eyebrow rocketing upward. "Perhaps it would be best if you accompanied me."

Following T'Pol to the lad's bedside, Malcolm worked to still the tumult entering his mind and decided that meditation definitely deserved further consideration. Stopping next to the bed he softly cleared his throat.

D'von didn't budge—even knowing that his Taj was standing in front of him couldn't prompt the youngster to come out of hiding. _{Maokim,}_ he whispered urgently into Reed's mind, _{Lehrites not posta be wiv Vul-cams...dey dunnint like us. Dey hate us.}_

He turned to T'Pol and Phlox. "He's not too keen on coming out—says that Lehrites aren't supposed to be around Vulcans. He's convinced that Vulcans hate Lehrites."

"He is mistaken," T'Pol stated in her usual cool tone, but Malcolm thought he detected just a hint of surprise in her eyes.

_{Nuh-uuh. Not staken. Learnded in skool. Made Vul-cams unhappy long time ago, an' now dey hate us so we hafsa stay 'way from dem. Not posta makes peeple unhappy.}_

"Well if Subcommander T'Pol hated you you'd be able to feel it, right? Does it feel like she hates you?"

D'von gasped. _{Not posta lissen wivout permission, Maokim—ams bad fing!}_

"But you've listened to other people's feelings before...why is this different?"

_{If feelins are loud cannint stop from hearin',}_ the boy explained. _{But reachin' in for dem wivout permission ams bad. Ams roood to lissen if peeple dunnint wants yew to.}_

"Ah...I should have remembered." It had been one of the first things Phlox had mentioned in that primer about Lehrites. He turned to T'Pol. "Would it be all right for him to, um, listen to you? Well, to your _feelings_, to be more specific. I can't think of a better way to convince him that you don't hate him but he says it would be rude to do so without permission."

"I do not believe it would be..._prudent_ for him to do so."

As she answered a millisecond of fear slammed into him like a physical blow. Blinking to clear the sensation from his mind he looked at the doctor. "Phlox...could you give us a little privacy please?"

Though puzzled the Denobulan nodded. "Of course. Call if you need anything."

Once Phlox had gone Reed drew the privacy curtain then fixed a nonjudgmental, appraising eye on his superior. "I'm sure you don't hate the lad," he said gently, "and I'm fairly certain you don't hate his species. But," he continued even more quietly, "you _are_ at least a little..._uneasy_ around him, aren't you?" Seeing the surprise flicker in her eyes he explained, keeping his voice low. "I felt it from you, Subcommander. Only for an instant, but I felt your...trepidation. He doesn't go delving into people's minds to find out what they're feeling, but he's quite right—if the emotions are loud one can't help but hear them. Vulcans control and suppress them but they certainly aren't _devoid_ of emotions, though they often all but deny that they have them. Is that what disturbs you, Subcommander? That he can sense that you have feelings? If that's the problem, you have my word that anything he—or I—may inadvertently 'hear' from you will be held in the strictest confidence. I have no desire to intrude on your privacy or cause you any discomfort, and I assure you that the _last_ thing D'Von wants to do is offend you or invade your privacy."

She stared at him, momentarily unable to think of a reply, then settled on a question. "Who told him that Vulcans hate his people?"

"It's apparently part of his school curriculum. He's been taught that a long time ago his people made Vulcans unhappy, so now Lehrites have to stay away from Vulcans because Vulcans hate them. Though I'm not entirely sure, I think it might be the _only_ thing he's been taught about your people."

T'Pol silently studied the blanket-draped boy a long moment before stepping up to him and carefully lifting away the covering. "D'von...please look at me," she urged in an effort to get the child to lift his head and open his tightly-closed eyes. Another throat-clearing from Malcolm helped convince the boy, and he nervously met her gaze. "Your teachers were misinformed. While it is true that our first meeting with Lehrites was somewhat off-putting, Vulcans do _not _hate Lehrites. After reviewing information that Dr. Phlox provided I must admit that _I_ have been taught things about _your _people that would seem to be inaccurate as well. Perhaps you can teach me more about Lehrites and in return I can teach you about Vulcans."

For the first time D'von made unabashed eye contact with her. _{Yew wanda learn from me? Dunnint know mush stuff...only been in skool liddle bits.}_

"He's concerned that he hasn't had enough schooling to be able to teach you anything."

"While formal schooling is an important method of learning," she told the boy, "one's life experiences are also valuable learning opportunities. I am certain you have acquired useful knowledge that you can share with me, and I can do the same for you. We can learn from each other and dispel any misconceptions we have about one another. It would be a mutually beneficial arrangement."

The boy intently studied her, the last of his unease having slowly leached away. Now he seemed awestruck as he regarded her. _{Wow,}_ he finally commented, _{she uses lotsa big words, huh? Muss be veryvery smart.}_

_Yes, she is_, Malcolm silently replied.

_{Would be awflee nice to learn 'bout Vul-cams,}_ D'von considered the offer with great sincerity and solemnity. _{Only learnded in skool 'bout stayin' way from dem. An' howta says hai wiv hans,}_ he added brightly, _{but learnded dat by axdent once when I used da compooder.}_ He fidgeted nervously. _{Did hokay, dinnint I? If dinnint do right, can do besser, I promise,}_ D'von offered eagerly.

_I'm sure you did a fine job_, Malcolm assured him before turning to the subcommander. "He would very much like to learn about your people. He's a bit worried that he might not have gotten the hand salute just right, though—he's never done it before, and says he only learned about it by accident. He's offered to learn to do it better if he needs to."

"You did it very well," she assured the boy. "I must return to my duties now but I will contact Mr. Reed later to schedule another visit with you. Would that be agreeable, Lieutenant?"

"Absolutely, Subcommander. And thank you again for your help."

"Of course. According to the doctor's report on Lehrites, they require positive emotions to remain healthy. Allowing our guest to repeatedly feel apprehensive would no doubt be detrimental to his health and would likely slow his recovery. Besides, after further consideration I believe that Dr. Phlox was correct—five days was an inadequate length of time for my people to come to an informed decision regarding Lehrites. It is only logical to seize the opportunity to learn as much about them as possible." With a respectful nod she headed for the exit, but was intercepted by the doctor as he happily came out of his office with a padd.

"Ah, Subcommander, I was hoping to have a brief word with you. Gentlemen, I'll be back momentarily," he assured Malcolm and D'von as he accompanied T'Pol out the door.

Settling onto the bed next to D'von, Malcolm grabbed some burdock chips/crisps and popped a few into his mouth then looked at his young charge. "Well my good sir, what shall we do with ourselves now?"

D'von chose a violet and studied it briefly before looking up at his Taj. _{Howz'bout...}_ he drawled with fun-loving mischief glimmering in his eyes, _{we dooo...mung!}_ he squeaked happily as he tapped the tip of Malcolm's nose with the sugary flower.

"That...sounds...splendid!" Malcolm agreed, scooping the boy onto his lap and hugging the giggling, snuggling tot close.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Once his shift ended Tucker hastened to his quarters to review all the messages he'd gotten. After getting an organized list together he wrote a private message to Phlox (couldn't risk Malcolm or D'von overhearing the comm, after all) letting him know what was afoot, asking if he'd care to participate, and asking if they could come to Sickbay in about an hour. The doctor wrote back to him almost as soon as the message had gone out giving the green light—though suggesting a later arrival time and insisting on a limited number of people—and eagerly accepting the commander's invitation. He also gave Trip an update on D'von and Malcolm; the two were currently having a visit with T'Pol, who had come to offer her assistance to the pair.

Rereading the part about the subcommander, Trip shook his head in puzzlement. Given T'Pol's attitude in Decon, Trip was having difficulty envisioning her offering to help the tot let alone paying him a social call. Then again, she'd been the one to find and return his belongings in that hellhole they'd found him in, plus she had pitched in when the boy's foot needed to be bandaged in Decon despite the fact that his odor had been almost overpowering to her. Now she was off socializing with the little guy. He was sure that if pressed she would claim that her actions were entirely logical but still, she hadn't been obligated to do any of it. If he lived twice as long as an average Vulcan it still wouldn't be long enough for him to figure her out.

Checking the time, he sent another message to Phlox agreeing to come after D'von and Malcolm had dinner then sent a message to everyone on the list:

_"Plan cleared by Phlox but attendance limited—he'll contact me when the guys are finished with supper and ready for company. All interested parties rendezvous at Captain's Mess in one hour for final preparations. Please don't forget to bring necessary supplies! If any of you can't make the meeting contact me with a progress report so I know where we stand. If anyone else wants to participate now's the time to speak up."_

After a quick shower Trip hurriedly put on a fresh uniform and checked in with the Quartermaster then grabbed the padd with the list, his camera, and a small rectangular gift-wrapped box from his desk drawer before heading to the Captain's Mess. When he got there he was stunned to see T'Pol standing at the door. Damn—had Jon forgotten they were going to be using his dining room and invited the subcommander to dinner?

"Hello, Commander. I was in Sickbay earlier and Dr. Phlox informed me that you were organizing a…project…involving D'von. We discussed it in the corridor outside Sickbay," she told him, seeing concern and disappointment on his face, "so neither D'von nor Mr. Reed were made aware of your plans. The doctor described it as, quote, 'another of their charming Earth customs.' After hearing the details of this custom I was intrigued by the concept and, if there are no objections, I may wish to participate."

Hooo-leee crap. He sure hadn't seen _that_ coming. "Yeah, sure!" he accepted eagerly. "The more the merrier—c'mon in!" Trip triggered the door then stepped back to let her precede him into the empty room.

"Perhaps you should explain this custom in more detail so that I know what would be expected of me," she suggested as she entered. "I am also curious about how a wagon figures into the ritual, and where exactly you would propose to get one."

Somehow he kept a straight face. "Sure thing—happy to explain it. I came early to wait for the Quartermaster to bring something by for me but the others won't start showin' up for a little while yet, so we've got plenty of time for a run-through. It's not complicated, but I think it would prob'ly be more accurate to call it a combination of customs. Here, have a seat," he offered, pulling out a chair from the table, "an' I'll go over it with ya." Once she was settled he sat next to her, stifling all but the vaguest hint of a smile. "First of all, about the wagon..."

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Phlox observed his charges from a distance and smiled. He knew Mr. Reed often held the majority of his feelings in check, and it was refreshing to see the lieutenant being so demonstrative and outgoing. Not wanting to be overly intrusive the doctor turned his attention back to his reports and scan results.

The results from Reed's monitors were at the top of his priority list: the only 'abnormalities' seemed to be during the lieutenant's tai chi session—which wasn't in his expert opinion an abnormality at all given the level of concentration Mr. Reed had been devoting to the activity—and at the very end of the recording when Malcolm had returned to Sickbay. He shook his head at the memory of the lieutenant telling T'Pol that he'd experienced 'a few brief instances of disorientation'. Lt. Reed was, he had decided long ago, totally incorrigible when it came to admitting any serious difficulty or problem, and this just served to reinforce that conclusion. Phlox was convinced that if the man had gotten a limb gnawed off by a Klingon targ he would insist that it was an inconsequential injury.

He looked over his shoulder at the pair again and again he smiled as the man and child continued cuddling, seemingly oblivious to his presence. Remembering Commander Tucker's plan for the pair he began pondering what his own contribution could be but found himself momentarily at a loss. His first idea seemed a bit too insubstantial…it might be better to have something that could be held or used, something that could be physically enjoyed. But what did he have that would fit the criteria? Ah yes, he decided, that would be _perfect_! Now all he had to do was excuse himself long enough to make a quick trip to his quarters then the Captain's Mess. Setting aside his reports and picking up the padd Chef had left showing pictures and descriptions of half a dozen Lehrite-safe meal options, he approached the pair. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt," he told them as he approached the bed, "but I need to go to my quarters for a bit and I thought as long as I'm heading out I'd stop by the Galley and place your dinner order. Do you have any ideas about what you'd like?" He handed the padd to Malcolm with another of his Cheshire Cat grins. "Chef was kind enough to leave a menu for D'von...you of course are not as restricted in your choices."

_{All looks so goood,}_ the boy observed, licking his lips. _{Maybe summa dis, an' dis, an' summa dat, an' dis,}_ he told Malcolm, pointing to the different pictures. _{An' a liddle bit of dis, an' dis too. Mmm...an' dat. An' maybe summa dat. An' dat too, please. An' a teeny bit of dis one.}_

Reed chuckled. "I'm not sure it would be a good idea for you to eat quite that much in one sitting—so far he wants everything," he explained to the doctor. "But he's certainly right about one thing—it all looks delicious. Why don't you pick one thing," he suggested to the boy, "I'll pick something else, and we can share with each other?"

D'von looked at him with a touch of disappointment. _{Gotsa pick jus one fing from all dis yummy stuff? Dat's gunda be too hard, Maokim!}_

"Well it shouldn't be _that_ hard to pick something," he teased. "And besides, if we share with each other you _will_ have more than one thing. But perhaps you _are_ right about just one item being too restrictive. There are a couple soups on here, so maybe we should each pick one entree and a soup, plus a dessert. That way we'll each get to sample _six_ things."

_{Dat sounds mush besser dan jus one fing—hokay! What yew gunda have?}_

"Well, I rather like the look of the spaghetti squash with tomato and basil...and I think I'll have the lentil soup with it. And...goodness, Chef made pineapple sorbet! I can't very well pass _that_ up," he told the boy, pointing to the selections as he chose so D'von would know which ones they were. "Your turn, dear."

D'von's face scrunched in concentration. _{Mmm...dis soop looks yummies,}_ he finally answered, tapping his finger on a picture of corn soup. _{What ams dis foods?}_ he asked as he pointed to another picture.

"Let's have a look." Scrolling through the ingredients Malcolm grinned. "Oh, I think you'll enjoy that one. It's called 'Harvest-stuffed Acorn Squash,' and it has all sorts of wonderful things in it—brown rice, celery, cranberries, apricots, nuts...I'm sure you'll love it."

_{Looks very yummies…hokay, I pick dat. Dis one ams bee-zert?}_ he asked, pointing to another picture.

"Yes, that's a dessert…'tunnel of fudge cheesecake'. My, Chef really _did_ go all out, didn't he?"

_{What ams fudge?}_

"Well, sometimes it's a type of candy, but in this case fudge is a thick chocolate sauce."

The boy's face lit with delight as he looked excitedly at his Taj and latched onto Malcolm's sleeve. _{Gotsa haves dat! Chawk-lick ams yummiest fing EVER! Please can haves chawk-lick-tummel-fudge-cheese-fing beezert? Pleeasepleeasepleeeeease?}_

Laughing aloud, Malcolm nodded. "Very well. Harvest-stuffed acorn squash, corn soup, and tunnel of fudge cheesecake for you."

_{YAAAAAAY!}_ D'von clapped exuberantly as he bounced on the bed.

Reed looked up at the grinning doctor as he handed back the padd. "He's very enthusiastic about the chocolate cheesecake. That won't be too much for him, will it? Sharing with me, I mean. Plus he's been snacking on crisps and violets—I don't want him to get a bellyache from overeating."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. As I understand it, Lehrites rarely eat to the point of feeling uncomfortably full. More than likely he'll eat part of his dinner and save the rest to nibble on over the course of the evening. If you're worried he'll overdo it I'll be sure Chef knows the two of you are sharing one another's meals so he can size the portions accordingly." Malcolm nodded his consent and Phlox continued. "Excellent. I'll let Chef know what you've selected on my way to my quarters then be back here as quickly as possible. If you have any problems before I get back be sure to call, hmm?"

"Don't worry, we will. And there's no need to rush back. I'm sure we'll be fine on our own."

"Oh, I'm sure you will, too. Your dinners should be here in an hour or so. And Commander Tucker contacted me a while ago asking to come for another visit after you've had dinner. I told him I'd contact him when you were ready for him to come—I hope that's all right?"

"Certainly. You might want to remind him to bring his camera," Malcolm suggested. "D'von really enjoyed having his picture taken."

"I'll be sure to mention it to him," Phlox promised as he headed for the door. "Have fun...and do try to stay out of trouble, hmm?"

Malcolm chuckled as the Denobulan left. "We'll do our best," he called after him. Once they were alone he stood and turned his attention back to his young charge. "As I recall, I promised to go over the ship's schematics and answer your questions. Would you like to do that now?"

_{Dat sounz splen-did!}_

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

"Is it normal for him to sleep this much?" Malcolm whispered to the doctor as he looked at the slumbering tot on his lap and carefully shifted position in the chair. "He just had a nap a little while ago."

"Yes, it's normal. Remember he _is_ a growing boy, plus his body has been expending extra energy healing his injuries." Phlox smiled at the lieutenant. "And I believe I mentioned in my report that Lehrites tend to nap after meals."

"You said they _rest_," the lieutenant corrected jovially, "but you didn't mention anything about them falling asleep at the drop of a hat. And you also said he'd burp a lot and chew his cud, but so far I haven't seen or heard any indica—" D'von simultaneously shifted on his lap and released a muted but respectable belch, and Malcolm stifled a chuckle. "Never mind."

"I was a bit concerned about that as well," Phlox admitted quietly, "until I took into account that until recently he hasn't had anything for his digestive system to process. If it helps ease your mind, he released several impressive belches while you were away. In fact one of them occurred after he'd eaten several fistfuls of Chef's burdock chips, which thoroughly delighted Chef. As far as the re-chewing of food, his first full meal didn't really have anything that would require additional mastication, so there was no reason for him to 'chew his cud'. However, I believe the acorn squash will likely change that."

Looking at the leftovers on the table in front of Malcolm and his charge, both men chuckled. While the squadron of stewards that had appeared with the small square table, table linens, chairs, and meal had been a surprise, the larger surprise had come after Reed had finished eating one of the stuffed squash halves and pushed the empty shell aside. D'von had shot the lieutenant a quizzical look then had mentally asked Malcolm why he hadn't finished his squash. When the man explained to the youth that the shell was inedible the boy had motioned to be given the shell, took a nibble from it, and informed his Taj that there was absolutely nothing wrong with it before merrily munching away on it while lovingly accusing him of passing up the best part of the squash.

True to Phlox's prediction the tot hadn't eaten everything and had carefully placed the leftovers—remnants of squash shells included—off to one side of the table "for layder". Even part of the cheesecake had been saved, which had surprised Malcolm given the boy's enthusiasm for the dish. In anticipation of potential leftovers Chef had also sent along a small stasis chest for them to put the food in; while D'von slept Phlox set about placing the plates in the chest and slid it under one of the empty biobeds so it would be close by when needed.

"When is Commander Tucker coming by?" Malcolm asked softly.

"I told him I'd contact him when you were ready for visitors...D'von's last nap only lasted twenty minutes or so, so I thought we could just wait for him to wake up before contacting the commander, hmm?"

"That would be perfect, thank you." Looking back at the sleeping boy, Reed's heart swelled with adoration. "He really is beautiful, isn't he?"

"Mmm...that he is."

Malcolm hesitated, unsure if he wanted to ask and doubly unsure whether he wanted to know the answer. "Phlox," he reluctantly began, "do you think...I mean...if we _don't_ find his family...what do you think would be the best course of action? I mean, should we find some _other_ Lehrites to hand him off to, or do you think...would it be possible...should he stay with me?"

The doctor stared at him, nonplussed. "I...I'm not entirely certain," he finally stammered. "Are you saying that you want to _adopt_ him?

"I want to do what's best for him," Malcolm countered softly. "If we can't find his family, would it be better to just find some other, random batch of Lehrites for him to live with? Or would it be better for him to stay with me? Would he be able to fully adapt to living with Humans?"

"Lehrites are a resilient, highly adaptable people...in that regard they're not unlike your own species. And though I'm not aware of any documented cases of interspecies adoptions, that doesn't mean it's out of the question. Obviously there would be challenges and obstacles to overcome for both of you—D'von would be constantly awash in the emotions of those around him, with only you to provide an outlet for him. And _you_ would have to find a way to endure the impact of those emotions being channeled into your mind. If he were with other Lehrites he would be Joined with all of them and would be more easily able to integrate into their herd. I can't honestly say which option would be best for him because I don't know. What I _do_ know is that he adores you, and I believe removing him from your guardianship at this time would be highly traumatic." He carefully studied the expression of relief that washed over the lieutenant's features. "You've given this quite a bit of thought, haven't you?"

Reed shook his head. "Not _exactly, _but while I was in my quarters the situation began to really sink in, and I started thinking about what options there would be if we don't find his family: if he stayed with me, how would my family react? How would I care for him? What would we do? Things like that. Don't misunderstand, I'd love to have him stay with me, but...I don't want to do anything that will be detrimental to him. If we can't find his relatives and it would be better for him to be with his own kind I'd have to let him go with them regardless of my feelings. But the idea of pawning him off on the first Lehrites we find just feels..._wrong_. He _knows_ me, _trusts_ me, _depends_ on me. I'm his Taj...even though _I'm_ not entirely sure what that entails, it means _everything_ to _him_. How can I just hand him over to total strangers, even if those strangers are other Lehrites?"

"How _would_ they react? Your family, I mean."

"It doesn't matter," he answered with a frown, his response. "If they accept him, that's fabulous, and if they don't...it's their loss. We're a package deal." Seeing the puzzled look on the doctor's face he elaborated. "If they want me in their lives they'd have to accept him, too." He paused before allowing a smile to fracture his dour expression. "I'm certain my sister would love being an aunt...not too sure how my parents would feel about becoming grandparents so abruptly, though."

Phlox chuckled. "I'm sure they would adapt." D'von gave a slow, moaning stretch as he woke, cutting short any further discussion.

The lieutenant looked down into the boy's eyes. "Ready for a visit from Ahnklah Trip?" D'von nodded enthusiastically and Malcolm looked back to Phlox. "Looks like it's time to call the commander." As the doctor grinned broadly and walked away Malcolm looked down at his charge. "Is it my imagination," he murmured, "or does Phlox seem a little _too_ happy?"

_{Cannint be too happy, 'cuz happy ams good fing.}_

"Well...I suppose that may be true...but I still have a sneaking suspicion that the doctor is up to something."

D'von puzzled it over a bit before answering with absolute certainty. _{Ahnklah Fox ams frens wiv us...wunnint be uppa bad sumfing...so if he ams uppa sumfing it muss be good sumfing.}_

Deciding that the tot's reasoning was sound, Malcolm relaxed. "I'm sure you're quite right. Besides, I'm probably just imagining it—after all, what could he possibly be up to?"

_{Nufin',}_ the boy pronounced merrily before growing thoughtful. _{Gunda do more pitchers?}_

"I'm sure Commander Tucker will take lots of pictures."

_{Den should makes more priddy for Ahnklah Tip, right?}_ D'von suggested, combing his fingers through the hair on his forehead and straightening the camisole.

"Well, you're very pretty already, but a little touchup is probably a good idea," Malcolm said. Though he didn't mention it, he noticed that he was the only one who didn't get referred to as 'ahnklah'. "You said before that Phlox used a hairbrush on you. Do you remember where it is?"

_{Mmmm...}_ the boy thought a moment. _{Oh, ams over dare.}_ He pointed to the far counter. While Malcolm fetched the brush D'von studied his hooves and gave a tiny frown. _{Hafsa do sumfing wiv dem, too. Ams messy.}_ Malcolm watched in amused fascination as D'von took the pouch from around his neck, opened the flap, and began carefully searching the contents. _{Ams here sumware,}_ he mentally murmured. Plucking out the sprig of mint he'd saved from breakfast he studied it before popping it into his mouth. _{Wanda haves sparkly breff for visits, too.}_ Chewing fervently he resumed the hunt, with success coming a moment later. _{Dare yew ams!}_ Pulling a wooden box from the pouch and setting it on the bed, he closed the pouch and draped the strap over his head.

"What is that?" Malcolm asked as he drew closer and set the hairbrush on the bed. The box was only slightly larger than the small, ancient recipe box Grandmother Reed had kept her most prized recipe cards in. While hers had been battered metal with faded, nondescript paint the shade of which he couldn't even recall, D'von's looked to be handcrafted wood polished to a lustrous sheen with intricate inlaid geometric patterns. He watched in rapt fascination as the lad pressed one of the inlays on the box. With a barely audible click the container unlatched in the center and slowly blossomed open.

Perching his left hoof on the edge of the bed D'von selected a tool from the box and began vigorously scrubbing at his hoof. _{Ams for makin' hoofs priddy. Gunda be all shiny-priddy an' freshen-up for more pitchers.}_ He stopped buffing to survey his progress, all business as he appraised the hoof. _{Not shiny-priddy yet...but dunnint fink needs trims.}_

"Would you like some help with that?"

_{Yew know howta do hoofs?}_ He was thoroughly amazed. _{Dinnint fink yew would, 'cuz yew haves toe-finners.}_

"Well, I admit I've never shined _hooves_ before, but I've polished more than a few _boots_ in my life." Looking at the tool in the boy's hand he recognized it as a shorter, wider version of a fingernail buffer. "And I suspect it's not too much different from Humans buffing their nails. I'm willing to try, if you want me to. If I do it wrong or cause you any discomfort I'll stop and you can take over, okay?"

_{Hokay. Hewps would be awflee nice.}_ Handing off the buffer he let Malcolm maneuver his leg.

At first the man stood in front of him and planted the hoof on his thigh but, deciding that the position would be inadequate, he settled on resting the leg on his left forearm, gripping just above the hoof with his left hand and giving a few experimental passes with the buffer. Satisfied that he hadn't caused any discomfort he went at the task with slightly more gusto until the side he was working on shone. Switching hands, Malcolm began working on the other side of the hoof. "How's that?" he asked when he'd finished, rather pleased with the final result.

_{Ams wunnerfuls!}_ D'von gushed as he studied the shiny black hoof. _{Yew ams veryvery good hoof-polisher...muss haves shinyest-priddyest boots on da whole ship!}_ He put his right leg up and looked expectantly at his Taj. _{Ready for udder one?}_ Malcolm hesitated, worried about hurting the still-healing foot. D'von smiled knowingly. _{Ams hokay, Maokim,_} he assured the adult. _{Eel makes mush bessers...dunnint hurts endymore, 'cept Ahnklah Fox says prob'ly hurts if I bump it. Doin' shiny-priddy wunnint hurts, I finks.}_

"You're sure?"

_{Yahuh. Yew ams my Taj—yew wunnint hurts me. An' if makin' hoof shiny-priddy does hurts, I be brave, I promise.}_

Steeling himself, Malcolm made a few delicate passes. Sensing no discomfort from D'von he worked at the task less timidly until the hoof gleamed.

D'von grinned at him. _{Toadya wunnint hurts.}_

"Yes, you did," Reed smiled, handing back the buffer and watching as D'von tucked it back in the box, gently closed the case and returned it to his pouch. "Well, now that your hooves are done, let's see about the rest of you." Retrieving the hairbrush he studied his charge. "Would you like me to brush your hair?" He felt a moment's indecision from the boy as D'von vacillated between wanting to be pampered further and not wanting to seem an infant.

_{Fank yew, Maokim…but can do hair own selfs,}_ he declined politely. _{Ams big boi naow, not baybee. Awmos' all growed up.}_

"Ah," Reed nodded, smiling as he handed over the brush, "I see. If I may ask, how old _are_ you?"

_{Ams awmos' four. Birfday ams 'lebent of Jahdik, an' dat's gunda be soon,}_ he stated matter-of-factly as he ran the brush through his hair.

"Almost four? My, you _are_ a big boy, aren't you?" Reed's smile broadened as the boy finished brushing his hair and shifted to his beard, lifting his chin and running the brush expertly through his facial hair.

_{Yahuh. Do hewps wiv da ship when am-int in skool…make beds, clean floors, wash lawn-dree, get food ready, take care of da baybees, do errands, do engine stuff…lotsa hewps.}_ Finished, he handed the brush back to Malcolm.

"Engine stuff? What sort of engine stuff?" He asked as he settled onto the bed next to the tot, certain that he'd misunderstood.

_{Hewp do fixes. Gotsa keep da engines happy, yew know. If engines am-int happy, nobuddy ams happy.}_

"When you say 'do fixes', surely you don't mean _you_ can actually repair a ship's engine?"

D'von fixed a mirthful gaze on his Taj. _{Whynot? Hafsa learn dat stuff sumtime, right?}_ He paused a moment before breaking into a huge fit of giggles. _{Cannint fix hole engine, sill-eee…mosly jus' get tools for growed-ups, bring foods sumtimes, go get stuff, sing…fings like dat. Can fix couple teeny-tiny itty-bitty fings, but not hole engine. I am-int DAT growed-up yet, Maokim!}_

There it was again: even Chef had been 'Ahnklah' but he was just plain 'Maokim'. "Sing? You sing to the engineers while they're working on the engines?"

_{Sumtimes…sumtimes jus' sing to engines…or play moo-zik. Dey like dat.}_ He studied Reed intently. _{Sumfing ams…wrong?}_

"No…nothing's wrong. Why do you ask?"

_{Jus' feels like sumfing ams wrong. Hear __won'drins _from yew. Dinnint lissen on purpose—was kinda loud for liddle bits.}

"Oh…well…since you mentioned it…it's not that there's anything _wrong_, mind you, but I _am_ a little curious about something. You call everyone else 'Ahnklah' except me. Why is that?"

D'von blinked in surprise. _{Well…yew ams Taj. Dinnint finks yew was Ahnklah, too. Yew wanda be Ahnklah?}_ he asked with a barely-stifled giggle.

"Why don't you just call me whatever you like, okay?"

_{But yew wanda be Ahnklah, dontcha?}_

"Well…yes," Malcolm confessed, "I suppose I do."

_{Hokay,}_ the tot chirped happily, then cocked his head and smiled. _{Ahnklah Tip ams here,}_ he informed Malcolm an instant before the doors opened. _{Ams veryvery happy 'bout sumfing.}_

Even without his connection with D'von Malcolm would have known that Trip was in exceedingly good spirits; the engineer was positively aglow as he strode into Sickbay.

"Hey there, you two," Tucker beamed. "Didja have a good supper?"

"It was a wonderful meal, wasn't it?" Malcolm gave D'von a squeeze.

_{Yahuh,}_ the boy nodded happily_. {Ahnklah Jeff sended lots uv yummy foods. Yew haves good supper too?}_

"He wants to know if you had a good supper, too," Malcolm conveyed, sparing a glance as Phlox returned from his office. The Denobulan, too, had a broad grin on his face that all but screamed 'I-know-something-that-you-don't-know'.

Trip nodded. "Yeah…kinda. I had some stuff to take care of so I just grabbed a sandwich, but I'll get something more later."

_{Mmm…sammiches ams yummy.}_ D'von rubbed his stomach for emphasis. _{Likes marm-laid bestest.}_ Head suddenly quirking to one side as though he'd heard an unexpected sound, his face took on a quizzical expression. _{Whycome udder peeples dinnint come in wiv Ahnklah Tip?}_

"What other people?" Reed asked before looking back at the engineer. "He asked me why the other people didn't come in with you…any idea what he's talking about?"

_{Ams udder people outside,}_ D'von insisted. _{Can hear lotsa loud happies out dere…}_

Malcolm could feel it now, lapping at the very edge of his mind. "Commandah?" he insisted with good humor, fending off a rush of giddiness.

Trip grinned festively. "Can't pull anything over on you guys, can we?" he chuckled as he went to the door and opened it. "Okay…they're on to us…c'mon in." He stepped aside as Hoshi, Liz, and Travis entered; Hoshi was carefully carrying a bouquet of colorful roses in a vase and Liz was toting a small suitcase. Bringing up the rear, Captain Archer entered pushing a large utility cart filled with gift bags and colorfully-wrapped boxes. Once Jon had parked the cart Hoshi settled the vase in amongst the presents and Liz put the suitcase on the floor next to the cart.

The perplexed little boy studied the gifts then the people bearing them. _{Dunnint unnerstans what dey ams doin', Ahnklah Maokim.}_

_I'm not entirely certain what they're up to, either,_ Reed confessed to the tot before politely addressing the others. "I'm afraid we're both rather at a loss…could someone please tell us what this is all about?"

"Well," Trip stepped forward, "I guess I started the whole thing. I got talkin' to Hess this morning about how maybe it'd be nice to do somethin' special for D'von, kind of a 'welcome aboard' party or somethin'. But she thought havin' a big bash might be a little overwhelming for him since he hasn't really gotten a chance to meet too many of us yet so _she_ suggested a get-well gift basket kind of thing. So I figured maybe we could combine the two an' give him a small 'welcome aboard, get well soon' party. An' let me tell you somethin'…if you ever need the entire crew to know something in record time just mention it to Hess, 'cuz by lunchtime dang near ev'rybody on board was…well…on board.

Phlox agreed that we should keep attendance to a minimum so we kept it down to folks he'd met already, plus Travis 'cuz it turns out he's had dealings with Lehrites before, on his daddy's ship. But just about ev'rybody either sent cards or presents. There's even a little somethin' from the subcomander, but she decided not to come since she'd just been here a little while ago."

Malcolm was stunned. "I…I don't know what to say." He looked at D'von. "They've brought gifts for you from the rest of the crew."

The mystified tot's head canted sideways. _{But…dinnint do endyfing for dem. Whycome dey sended prezents?}_

"Well," Reed tried to explain, "it's their way of welcoming you to the ship and letting you know that they care about you and want you to get better soon." He turned his attention to Ensign Mayweather. "Travis, how much _do_ you know about his people?"

"Not a _lot_," the ensign confessed. "But I was able to give Phlox some information for his report. I was maybe seven or eight when we met up with one of their big ships—they called it a pleasure cruiser—and I don't think we'd ever encountered such a friendly species. They were extremely eager to learn about us and meet all our needs. They're really talkative and sociable, but the women were kinda…well, flirty. So were the _men_, come to think of it," he recalled with a lopsided grin before turning his attention to D'von. Pressing his palms together, fingers pointing toward the Lehrite, he held his hands in front of his heart and gave a slight bow, opening his hands toward the boy as if offering something to him before straightening up. "Hope I did that right," he murmured. It's supposed to symbolize opening your hearts to each other…I _think_.

D'von gleefully returned the gesture. _{Did perfeck,}_ he assured the ensign with a nod. But surveying the people and gifts again, he grew somber and Malcolm could feel sorrowful desperation rapidly building in the lad. _{But…so many fings…all da peeples doin' so mush for me…dunnint know how gunda pay for ev'ryfing, Maokim. Dunnint haves nuff monies for all dis.}_

"But they're _gifts_, luv," he tried to convince the agitated lad. "You don't have to _pay_ for them." With a sigh he looked at the others. "He thinks he has to pay for the presents."

Stunned, Trip exchanged dismayed looks with the others then approached the bed. "Gosh no, little fella…Malcolm's right—you don't hafta _pay_ for 'em. We just wanted to do somethin' nice for ya, to make ya feel better." This was _not_ the reaction any of them had been trying for.

Malcolm flinched at the boy's growing unease and confusion and the mounting concern of the others edging its way into his mind. "He still doesn't quite understand."

"I may be able to help," Phlox intervened, placing a comforting hand on D'von's shoulder. "I've dealt with a number of different species, my boy, and I know how perplexing it can be to understand their ways. It can be challenging sometimes, but with a little thought I'm sure we can work it out. Now _your_ people, for example…Lehrites entertain other people mostly to make those people happy, isn't that right?"

D'von nodded. _{Yahuh. Ams good ta make __happies for __peeple.}_

"He says it's good to make people happy," Malcolm relayed.

The doctor forged ahead. "And even though Lehrites _do_ get paid for rendering their services, their _main_ reason for making others happy is because it makes _them_ happy, correct?" The boy nodded again, prompting Phlox to grin broadly. "Well, not unlike your own people, sometimes Humans do things to make others happy simply because making _others_ happy makes _them_ happy. Now, I'm sure _you'd_ very much like to make _them_ happy, too, correct?" Once more D'von nodded, and the Denobulan continued. "Giving them happiness _could_ be seen as a way of paying them back, and if you accept their gifts it would make them very happy. I would suggest that you accept, use, and enjoy the gifts. Perhaps you'll even find a way to use what your new friends have given you to make them even happier, hmm?"

Brow furrowing, the tot considered the physician's explanation. _{Sooo,}_ he sought Malcolm's input, the clouds of doubt slowly dispersing, _{dey give gifs to make happies for me, an' ams hokay to keep wivout payin' 'cuz dat's wat makes happies for dem, an' makin' happies ams da same as payin' for da gifs? An' can maybe use gifs to make more happies?}_ Countenance brightening hopefully, he met the gaze of his Taj.

_That's right,_ Reed silently assured D'von. _That's why they were so happy when they were waiting in the corridor—they were eager to make you happy. They don't want money or payment from you, dear, they just want to welcome you and to let you know they care about you._ He looked appreciatively at the doctor, grateful to feel the tension fleeing the room. "He's got it now, Phlox…thank you."

"You're welcome," the doctor beamed. "Happy to help. Now, I don't know about our young friend here, but I'm very curious to learn a little more about these customs of yours, Commander Tucker. Your message to me mentioned 'rolling out the welcome wagon'?"

"Yeah, that's what we called it back home," Trip acknowledged with a chuckle. "When somebody new would move in nearby, the neighbors would get stuff together and take to the new folks to welcome them to the neighborhood. An' of course, if somebody took ill or got hurt, folks would put together gift baskets to take to them or they'd help out with chores, errands, and stuff like that, 'til they were back on their feet again. So after talkin' it over with Hess, it seemed like a good idea to combine the two for the little guy. None of us ever imagined it would _upset_ him."

_{An' dis stuff ams all for me?}_D'von asked with an appraising eye on the gift-laden cart.

Malcolm chuckled. "Yes, that stuff is all for you. Trust me," he told the others, "he's not upset anymore."

"Well, sir," Hoshi gently corrected, "as far as all of the presents being for D'von, that's not _entirely_ accurate." She took a moment to enjoy the confused expression on Reed's face before continuing. "There are a couple things for you, too. It didn't seem right to leave you out." She retrieved a padd from the cart and handed it to the lieutenant with a grin. "For example, this is a list of volunteers for babysitting duties, along with their qualifications."

Reading over the list left him numbed with shock. "Oh...my...goodness. This must be almost a third of the crew!" He looked up at them, stunned and touched beyond words.

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Trip beamed. "Don't be surprised if names get added to the list along the way, though."

"Oh my," Malcolm repeated, reading through the list again. "I...I don't know what to say. This is...marvelous." Seeing that everyone present had their names on the list—Captain Archer included—he looked at them all again. "Thank you all so much." Feeling a twinge of annoyance from D'von, he faced the boy. "Is something wrong?"

D'von folded his arms across his chest, looking genuinely peeved. _{Am-int baybee. Toad yew, ams big boy, awmos' all growed up. Dunnint needs baybee-sitters if am-int baybee.}_

"Ahh...I see. I suppose you're right—if you're not a baby you don't need babysitters. But," he explained with a twinkle in his eye, "even if you _are_ a big boy and almost all grown up, you're also still a child plus you're in a new place, so there may well be times when some form of child care services will be needed, don't you think?" Seeing that his argument wasn't convincing the boy he continued, holding the padd out for D'von to look at. "Besides, here are all these people eager to spend time with you. It wouldn't do to just dismiss their offer now, would it?"

Taking the padd, D'von studied the readout thoughtfully before breaking into a slow grin. _{Mmmm...dey play games wiv me too, right?}_ Malcolm nodded with a chuckle. _{Hokay. Yew ams right—dunnint wanda be roood, an' if gives happies den hokay.}_

"Yes, I'm certain it would make them very happy to play games with you and keep you company from time to time," he confirmed, eyes sparkling like sapphires, "and their having offered makes _me_ happy, too. Do you know what _else_ would make me happy?"

_{Nuh-uh,}_ D'von grinned back at him.

Reed leaned forward ever so slightly and whispered, "If you'd open some of your presents now."

The tot eyed the cart again and rubbed his hands together eagerly. _{Where starts doin' happies?}_ he asked with a humorous glimmer in his eyes.

While Jon and Trip gathered chairs for the adults, arranging them in a semicircle around the side of the bed, Malcolm perched next to D'von on the edge of the bed and Travis moved the cart closer to the boy.

"Oh," Malcolm realized, "I should mark down who sent what. We'll need to send thank-you notes."

Trip nodded toward the padd still in the lieutenant's hand. "Already taken care of. They're all on there, in a separate file. No peeking," he warned with a smirk as he sat down.

Malcolm's fingers froze over the screen—he'd just been ready to open the file—and after a second he nodded agreement. Wouldn't do to spoil the surprise. He looked down at his charge. "Which one do you want to start with?" He felt the boy's eager attention on the roses but after considering a bit D'von's attention shifted to the suitcase.

_{Ams hokay ta do big one first?}_

"That would be fine," the lieutenant replied before turning his attention to Cutler. "He'd like to start with the suitcase, if that's all right."

"Of course." Liz Cutler got up and placed the suitcase on the foot of the bed and released the catches before stepping back. When D'von gave her a questioning look she nodded eagerly, smiling as he slowly raised the lid and stared awestruck at the contents. "A few of us got together and rounded up some clothes for you," she explained. "We had to kind of guess at your size, so if anything doesn't fit just let me know and I'll see about alterations, okay?"

D'von slowly nodded as he lovingly pulled a small woman's skirt from the suitcase, holding the black silky garment aloft a moment to study it then draping it over his lap. _{Ams wunnderful!}_ he beamed at her as he gently smoothed the fabric over his lap.

Malcolm looked over the tot's shoulder at the rest of the clothing then at Cutler. "He loves the, um, _kilt_. I'll have him try things on later to check the size...thank you so much. We'll need to know who else contributed so we can thank them properly."

Liz nodded toward the padd Hoshi had given him. "They're all right there. We got an approximate idea of his size from Phlox, got together a few things that were close to the right size, and had an impromptu sewing bee down at the Quartermaster's. I never knew how talented Crewman Zabel was with a sewing machine—he could be a professional tailor. There were a few pictures of Lehrites in the Database and after Zabel saw them he put together a couple outfits that look quite similar to what they wear." She chuckled as she watched the boy burrowing through the rest of the clothes.

_{Ams lotsa good stuff ta wear in here but nufin' dat will fit yew, Maokim—oopssorry, mean Ahnklah Maokim,}_ he corrected himself with a giggle. _{Did dey forget clothes for yew?}_

"No, they didn't forget," he answered. "They know I've already got clothes to wear." He watched approvingly as the tot carefully tucked the garments back in the case and closed the latches; Malcolm placed it on the floor for him. "Which would you like next?" he asked, motioning to the gifts and suspecting which his charge would prefer. "The flowers, perhaps?" At the boy's nod he got the vase and carefully held it in front of his charge as D'von first sniffed the blooms then cautiously tugged a red one out of the bouquet.

They watched as D'von studied the rose and then very meticulously plucked seven petals from it. _{Here go,}_ he urged as he held the petals out for Malcolm to take,_ {one for each.}_ Once he's set the vase back Malcolm dutifully handed out the petals, keeping one for himself, then watched as the lad plucked an eighth petal and began chewing it. _{Mmm...ams yummy snack. An' lotsa bite-amins. Endybuddy wants more? Ams hokay ta do secunz if yew wanda.}_

Reed didn't even try to stifle his amusement—what else would an herbivore do with a bouquet?—as he turned to the others. "Eat up, everyone. He says it's a yummy snack and we should feel free to have seconds. Lots of vitamins, you know." Without a second thought he popped his own petal into his mouth and chewed merrily away. (Who knew that developing a taste for Great-Grandmother Reed's rose petal jam would ever come in handy?) Phlox obliged at once; after a slight hesitation Archer followed suit then the others gamely joined in. Though it looked for a moment as if Trip might balk he finally gave a 'what the heck, why not' shrug and downed the botanical snack. Phlox, D'von, and Malcolm were the only ones to take seconds, though.

The adults chuckled and chatted back and forth and Trip took numerous pictures as D'von enthusiastically made his way through the presents: the Astrometrics Department had put together a padd filled with solar system maps, information about Earth, and star charts, Hydroponics had sent not only the roses but had downloaded several books about Earth's plants onto a padd, and Hoshi had put together a similar padd filled with information about animals. From Captain Archer there was a raised-relief globe of Earth; Trip, with a good deal of help from the Quartermaster, had brought paper, crayons, colored pencils, and a small collection of paints for the boy. The gift from T'Pol had earned special attention from D'Von, who had handled the box of herbal teas and small containers of honey—one sage, one buckwheat—with extreme reverence.

Several departments had pooled their resources to put together a gift basket of fruit, nuts, and a variety of other snacks plus a few games and toys. A padd (addressed to Malcolm) contained a compilation of children's stories plus a collection of soothing classical music; the message on the card indicated that several crewmembers had collaborated with Hoshi on the project to give him something to help with D'von's bedtime.

Lieutenant Hess had gotten together with a couple other crewmembers from Engineering to gather a collection of toiletries for their guest: soaps and shampoo, toothbrush and paste, and several towels and washcloths. In addition to organizing the clothing project Liz brought a collection of nature sounds—everything from ocean sounds and whale songs to crickets and rainstorms. Several other crewmembers had sent along recordings of various musical styles; Travis contributed not only classical guitar but also recordings from different cultures he'd encountered while on the _Horizon_, Phlox had put in recordings of Denobulan folk songs (which Hoshi was already eager to borrow), and Crewman Steve Zabel a substantial collection of medieval instrumental music and...something else.

Malcolm read the description again. The complete collection of recordings and videos of..._who?_ The picture of the band almost made his jaw drop. "What in the _world_ is _'Fierce Blue Ascot'_? And what in God's name is wrong with this man's hair? It _is_ a man, isn't it?"

Trip laughed. "I had to look 'em up, too. Some kinda music from back in the 1980s called 'electronica', I think. Or was it 'technopop'? Anyhow, it's kinda catchy. And yeah, it's a guy—Ian Westbury. Does kinda look like he grabbed a live power circuit, huh? Who knew Zabel had such eclectic taste in music?"

"Indeed," Malcolm agreed, still reading the discography. It might do to have a little chat with Steven. "_'Fierce Blue Ascot Live from Royal Albert Hall'_?" he squeaked, incredulous. "They made that up, right? _Please_ tell me they made that up."

_{I likes his hair—ams big an' poofy,}_ D'von observed, gently tugging the padd from Malcolm's hands and studying the picture. _{Yep. Nice, big, poofy hair. An' long. Makes lotsa happies for da laydees, betcha.}_

Reed did a doubletake. "Aren't you a bit young to be thinking about that?" He turned to the others, realizing they were waiting for an explanation. "He, um...he seems to think that this fellow's hair would be..._attractive_ to women."

Hoshi chuckled. "We were actually discussing that earlier—Zabel played one of the vids for us while we were wrapping presents. Most of us decided he was kinda cute, but we were divided on whether the hair was a plus or minus. Someone thought he looked a little like you." Travis breathed a silent prayer of thanks that Hoshi neglected to mention who had made _that_ comment.

"Whoever thought that needs to schedule an eye exam with the doctor," Malcolm huffed. "We look _nothing_ alike."

_{Mmmm...yew maybe looks liddle iddy-biddy bits like him. Eyes looks kinda same.}_ He looked at his Taj. _{Yew ever haves long, poofy hair?}_

"I should say not," Malcolm insisted, humor in his voice. "No long, poofy hair for me, thank you very much." He found himself chuckling along with the others.

_{Too bad...yew would look priddy wiv poofy hair. An' horns.}_ He smiled at Malcolm. _{But ams veryvery priddy already, so guess yew dunnint needs poofy hair an' horns ta make happies for da laydees, huh? Horns an' hair might be more dan da laydees can han-ell, prob'ly. Dey might faint from da priddies.}_ Shifting his attention from Malcolm he looked back toward the cart, which held two more unopened gifts. _{Dere ams liddle skinny box—dinnint see dat one afore. Can do dat one nex?}_

"Absolutely you may do that one next," Reed eagerly agreed, entertained by the boy's observations but grateful for the change in subject. He picked up the small rectangular box, hefting it in the palm of his hand to try to guess the contents before reading the tag and handing it to the boy. "That one is from Trip, too."

The engineer looked on expectantly as D'von studied the box. "If you need help learnin' how ta use it, just lemme know an' I'll teach ya." He gave Malcolm a quizzical look. "Whaddid he say?" he asked innocently. "You looked kinda flushed there for a second."

Reed considered withholding the truth for only a fraction of a second before deciding he didn't want to try to explain 'little white lies' to the lad. "He thought that this Westbury chap bore a slight resemblance to me then wanted to know if I'd ever had hair like that. Seemed to think I'd be attractive to the ladies with long hair, and with horns, but he's decided I look fine just as I am."

"Uh-huh," Trip drawled, unconvinced. He gave it a moment before asking with a smirk, "What _else_ did he say?"

Straightening slightly, Malcolm threw his usual self-consciousness to the wind. Smirking smugly right back at the engineer he answered, head held high. "He said since I'm _already_ so attractive, if I had horns and long hair I would likely make women swoon." The mirth and camaraderie he felt from the others filled him with pleasure. It was easy to see why Lehrites valued making others happy—god, it felt _marvelous_! Turning his attention back to the box in D'von's hands, he gasped when the boy revealed what was inside. "Trip...your harmonica?" Though the instrument wasn't on _his_ list of favorites he knew how much it meant to the commander.

"Actually, it's my spare," Trip replied, pulling his own from his breast pocket. "Never leave home without it." He smiled as he watched D'von study the instrument, then blew softly into his own.

The boy stared mesmerized as the man played a few scales and chords before looking reverently at the instrument in his own hands. Malcolm held the box as D'von slowly raised the harmonica to his lips and tentatively blew into it. He gave a start at the sound that he'd produced then looked questioningly at Trip.

"That's pretty much how it sounded first time I blew into one," Trip assured him. "We'll get together sometime an' I'll give ya a few lessons, okay?"

D'von smiled and nodded enthusiastically before tooting on the instrument a few more times, then returned his gift to its box and began sniffing the air. _{Round meddle box ams lass one...smells very good.}_

Reading the tag before handing off the gift tin Malcolm grinned. "It's from Chef—that's probably why it smells good. He wrote a note on the tag saying that refills are available upon request."

_{Hmm...}_ D'von puzzled as he sniffed at the edge of the tin. _{Dunnint smell chips like Ahnklah Jeff sended afore...smell...}_ He paused as he carefully pried the lid off. _{KOOOKIES!}_ Tossing the lid onto the bed he stuck his face into the tin and sniffed deeply, drinking in the scent. Raising his head he smiled at the adults around him. _{Hoomins likes koookies too?}_

"Yes, Humans like cookies too," his Taj replied as he looked in the tin. "They look like oatmeal raisin."

_{Den can use dis gif to make more happies right away, like da roses!}_ the tot announced happily as he held out the tin for Malcolm to hand around.

"Aren't you going to have one?" Malcolm asked.

_{Frenz firs, den self.}_

"Ahh...very good." He handed off the tin to Travis. "He says friends go first." Once the tin had made its way around Malcolm took a cookie then returned the container to D'von. The boy took one, carefully placed the tin on the bed then rapidly licked the back of the cookie several times before beginning to nibble daintily at the treat. "Well my good man," Reed told him as he settled back on the bed next to him, "it looks like that's the end of the presents."

"Mmm," Phlox interrupted, "not quite. When Commander Tucker first contacted me about this gathering I wanted to contribute something but my first idea seemed a bit...intangible, so I went for the folk recordings. However, I'd still like to offer my original gift. Lieutenant," he addressed Malcolm with a satisfied grin, "I am officially discharging you from Sickbay. Tonight you get to sleep in your own bed."

The smile that spread across Reed's face quickly faded. "I very much appreciate that, Doctor, but I think it would be best if I stayed with D'von."

"Of _course_ the two of you should stay together," Phlox replied, his grin growing to epic proportions. "That is why I'm discharging D'von, too. You are both free to leave, though D'von will need to come in first thing in the morning for another follow-up and to have his earring put back in its rightful place. I'm recommending that you wait another day or two before resuming all of your duties so that you'll be able to spend the necessary time helping D'von acclimate. Plus, I expect you to contact me if there are any problems, no matter how trivial they may seem. Agreed?"

"I...I...of course," Reed stammered, stunned and pleased by the offer. "Absolutely. We'll be back bright and early, light duty, call with any problems."

D'von had been following the conversation with great interest. {_Gunda go to kwar-ders wiv yew, Ahnklah Maokim?}_ he chirped happily as he slipped onto Reed's lap.

"Yes." The lieutenant wrapped his arms around his charge. "Dr. Phlox says we can leave Sickbay and spend the night in my quarters, and tomorrow morning he'll tend to your ear so you can wear your earring again. Isn't that a grand present?"

_{Yahuh,}_ the lad agreed heartily, _{ams wunnerful...but not bestest prezent.}_

"Really?" That surprised Malcolm. Nothing could be better than being discharged from Sickbay—not even cookies or a harmonica. "Well, if getting out of Sickbay isn't the best present, which one is?"

_{Yew finded me an' bringded me here, an' Joinded wiv me an' ams Taj. Ams part uv yore herd now. All dat ams bestest prezent.}_ Mentally bathed in adoration and gratitude, Malcolm couldn't quite breathe past the lump in his throat.

"Malcolm?" Archer broke the long silence. "Everything okay?" Malcolm nodded and took a deep breath. "Are you sure?" the captain pressed.

"Yes…yes sir. It's just…I wasn't expecting the answer I got."

When Reed again fell silent the rest of the adults exchanged curious glances. Trip, looking about to burst, addressed his friend. "Sooo…if the best present wasn't the cookies or Fierce Blue Ascot, what was it?"

Snapping out of it, Malcolm smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. He, um…he said that the best present was our rescuing him, my Joining with him and becoming his Taj, and his becoming part of our herd." As the warmth from the others flowed through his mind a tiny endearing, nasal voice broke the stillness.

"Fank yew Ahnklah Maokim." The surprised adults looked at him as D'von tipped his head to look up at Reed. "I luv yew." The tot then turned his attention to the others, smiling and giving each a polite nod as he faintly addressed them. "Ahnklah Tip…Ahnklah Fox…Ahnklah Oh-shee…Ahnklah Cutter…Ahnklah Tavis…Ahnklah Capann-ahcha…fank yew." He swallowed with some discomfort.

"D'von?" Malcolm asked worriedly. "You haven't hurt your throat, have you?"

"Only hurts…liddle bits. Gunda be…hokay. Ahnklah Fox sed." He fairly beamed at them all. "Where ams Ahnklah Paul? Hafsa…fank her, too. She giveded yummy tea…an' honeys."

Captain Archer returned the boy's smile. "She's working right now, but I'll be seeing her in a little while so I'll tell her for you."

As Phlox approached and scanned his throat D'von nodded his approval. "Dat would be…awflee nice." He beamed at the Denobulan. "Ams hokay to talk…liddle bits, right? "

Phlox smiled. "A little bit, yes, but if it becomes too uncomfortable then it would be best to stay quiet for a while, hmm?"

"Hokay." He looked at Malcolm then back at the doctor. "Can ax question, please, Ahnklah Fox? Wen Ahnklah Maokim an' I…gunda go to kwarders?"

"Whenever you're ready." The Denobulan replied cheerfully.

"Fink ams ready naow, hokay?" D'von turned back to his Taj, snuggling on Reed's lap. "Yew ams ready for kwarders, right?"

Beaming at the boy, Malcolm nodded. "Indeed I am."


End file.
